


The Time Between

by Heath17_KO5



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Angst, F/F, Long Time Span, Pining, au where christen never gets called up for the u-23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 21:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21362863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heath17_KO5/pseuds/Heath17_KO5
Summary: When she keeps getting passed over for the national team, Christen walks away from soccer to build her life outside the game, but some people are inevitable.
Relationships: Christen Press/OC, Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 70
Kudos: 539





	The Time Between

**Author's Note:**

> This story spans eight years, starting the end of the summer after Christen graduates from Stanford. In this AU Christen never got called up for the U-23 camps or the senior national team. There are no love triangles. There IS Kelley and Christen being bros. Also, please know that I believe in happy endings.  
Enjoy! (And if you do, please leave me a comment letting me know! Bonus points if you give me specifics, though what those bonus points go towards idk?)

Christen makes the decision over a month before she tells them. It’s not hard to keep it from them. Not really. Not when they’re far away. Not when they’re busy playing the type of soccer she wishes she could be playing. 

It’s not like her soccer career has been bad so far. She broke records at Stanford. She got the Hermann Trophy. 

It’s just…

She’s not getting the call. She’s waited and she’s hoped and she’s been patient and quite frankly she’s sick of it. Sick of the waiting and the hoping and the being patient. She’s sick of jumping when the phone rings as she knows camps are approaching and it never being from the right number, it never being the right voice at the other end of the phone. 

Kelley and Tobin get the call, though. They’ve  _ been _ getting the call. The one that Christen has dreamed of since the day she decided she was serious about soccer. They got all the calls: the U-15, the U-17, the U-20, the U-23, and, of course, now the senior team. 

Christen has been passed over for all of them. 

She doesn’t know why. Every time she steps onto a field she tries harder and runs faster and practices every technical thing she can. She stays late and runs extra laps and she has the college accolades, but maybe her skills simply don’t transfer to that level. Maybe the scouts and the coaches all know something she doesn’t. 

The thing is, she’s sick of the overwhelming disappointment every single time. And World Cup is only a year away and the Olympics only two. She’d given it the summer, she had, but if the call up was going to come, it would have by now. They’ve examined their pool of players and they’re going to start whittling it down, not calling up new people. 

It’s time for her to do something with her life, and if soccer isn’t going to be it, then she needs to get to work, get a proper job, put her communications degree to use. 

She’s good with people. She’ll be okay. 

Maybe it’s not her first dream, but she can make a new dream. 

Probably.

Maybe. 

Once she’s decided, she feels minutely better. At least she’s not sitting around waiting for the call anymore. 

It’s just now she has to tell her friends. 

(She’s dreading Tobin more than Kelley, even though Kelley will make a bigger fuss.)

  
  


There’s been flirting for years, ever since the first time Kelley introduced them. For Christen it was crush at first sight; all flustered smiles and lip bites and lingering eye contact. Tobin’s more chill about it. She’s more chill about everything. It makes her hard to read sometimes, but Christen’s pretty sure -

No, she’s REALLY sure that there’s some level of returned interest. 

She hasn’t imagined all the little touches, or the almost kisses. She hasn’t imagined those moments where the tension was only broken by laughter. She knows she hasn’t. She’s sure enough of her own mind to know that. 

It’s just she’s never acted on it. Neither of them has. Acting on it would mean-

Well, it would mean change, and with Christen’s mind made up about her future, it’s not a change that can last. 

She knows what it will take out of her to step away from the soccer world, to shift her focus and her dreams. She knows she’s giving up more than just playing the game she loves. 

Kelley and Tobin and her other soccer friends will keep playing and keep traveling and they’ll move on with their lives in one direction and she - 

She won’t. She’ll move on in another direction. Life will take them away from each other, and she needs to put space there. She’s going to need time and space to adjust before she can go back to trying to be happy for their successes. 

That doesn’t mean that goodbyes won’t be hard.

  
  


Kelley takes it about as well as expected. They’re in LA for a camp and Christen waits until the very end, after their friendly. They’ve got one recovery day left and then they’re back to their WPS clubs and Christen knows that while it might be easier to do this long distance, she owes it to them to tell them face to face. 

Kelley especially has been there for her through thick and thin since she took her under her wing her freshman year at Stanford. It’s not horribly surprising, then, that Kelley stomps and pouts like a petulant toddler. She’s seen how much getting passed over has affected Christen, though, so there’s understanding in her eyes as well. 

“You can’t give up! They’ll call! They will!” Kelley declares, wrapping her in a hug so tight that Christen’s mildly concerned that her lungs might get squished. 

“I’m not giving up. I’m moving on! It’s different.”

“But soccer!  _ Fútbol _ ! The beautiful game! You can’t tell me you’re really turning your back on it!” Kelley protests into her shoulder, her voice slightly muffled. 

“I need to start an actual career, Kel. One that has some sort of stability. I can’t ride on a dream forever.”

“But you’re so good! Dammit! I’m calling Pia right now to complain!” 

Christen laughs, tears welling up in her eyes at the show of support as Kelley actually pulls out her phone and starts to search through for Pia’s number. Christen snatches the phone away. “Kel, I don’t think she takes her call-up tips from you. No offense. Besides, I’m good with this decision. I’ve thought about it a lot, okay?” 

“Well, I’m NOT good with it,” Kelley declares. “Tobin, back me up here!” 

Christen hasn’t wanted to look at Tobin. She hasn’t known what she wants to see written on her face. She doesn’t look now, instead, letting Kelley hold her longer, tucking her face into Kelley’s sweatshirt, breathing in her familiar scent and trying not to think about how much of a goodbye this really is. 

Tobin is slow to respond, clearing her throat first. “Kel, I think this is hard enough on her without us making it worse.” 

Her voice is scratchy and the husk in it does things to Christen that makes hugging Kelley suddenly a little uncomfortable, so she breaks away from the hug, or tries to, anyway. 

Kelley is reluctant to let go, but after Christen squirms for a moment and complains with a whined, “Kelley!” she finally relents. There are tears in Kelley’s eyes when Christen meets her gaze, and Christen feels it get to her. 

“It’s not like it’s goodbye forever, you idiot,” Christen says. It’s not. It’s probably not. 

She’ll see them again sometimes if they’re in town and they have time. 

Probably. 

Christen swallows down the lump in her throat and finally, slowly, shifts her gaze to Tobin. 

Tobin’s expression is guarded and Christen wishes desperately that she could read it better, but before she has a chance to try Tobin is stepping in and wrapping her in a hug that’s even tighter than Kelley’s had been. 

Christen holds on as if her life depends on it, closing her eyes to shut out the tears that now threaten to fall, instead sinking into Tobin’s warmth. 

“WPS would’ve taken you,” Tobin murmurs by her ear, and her breath is hot against her cheek. 

“WPS isn’t my dream, and the league doesn’t seem that stable and Europe is so far away from my family, and -”

“I know,” Tobin cuts her off. “I get it. Just would’ve been cool to play together again.”

Christen nods into Tobin’s shoulder, and then Tobin is clearing her throat and stepping back again. 

“Hey, let us at least take you out to dinner tonight,” Tobin says. 

It’s such an adult response and it catches Christen by surprise, but she nods. “Yeah. Sure. That would be fun.” 

“I can’t,” Kelley pouts. “Danger Dan’s taking me out. He flew in for the game. Those pilot perks, you know?” 

Christen manages a chuckle. “Tell him hi from me.”

“I will,” Kelley assures her before pulling her into another tight hug. “You’d better keep in touch, Pressy.” 

“I will,” Christen says.

It feels like a lie. 

  
  


“I don’t think I could do it,” Tobin says. 

They’ve had a few glasses of wine and their meals have long ago been devoured and cleared by the waitstaff, but Tobin hasn’t made any indication that she’s ready to go, and Christen can’t bring herself to suggest it. 

“Do what?” Christen asks, leaning closer to hear better over the din of the other restaurant patrons. The soft candlelight gives Tobin’s skin this inviting tan glow and makes her eyes seem even darker than normal, and Christen’s had trouble focusing more than once tonight as a result. 

“Leave. Walk away from it. Soccer’s like part of my DNA.” Tobin cracks a smile as if trying to make a joke, but Christen feels her words a little too acutely to return the grin. 

“You don’t have to, though. You’re Tobin Heath. This is what you were born for. You’ve been getting call ups since you were like fourteen. You’ve got magic feet.”

Tobin’s blush is faint, but it darkens her cheeks just enough that Christen can make it out in the candlelight and it only serves to make her even more attractive. 

It’s not fair, really. 

It’s not fair that Christen wants  _ so much _ and she keeps not getting. 

Maybe it’s that thought that emboldens her. Maybe it’s the knowledge that this one thing that she wants she COULD have if she were just a little braver. Maybe not forever, but maybe she could have it for a night. 

(Maybe it’s just that she needs to know, for sure, one way or the other, if there was ever a chance for them.)

“You’re amazing,” she says, her voice a little breathless, and Tobin’s eyes meet hers across the table.

Her mouth is open as if she was going to protest, but when their gazes meet, she closes her mouth again. 

“You’re always - You’ve always been so -”

“Chris,” Tobin cuts her off, her voice sounding a little hoarse, and, God, that’s so sexy. 

Christen’s fingers twist at the ring on her middle finger anxiously as she works up the nerve to ask what’s really on her mind. 

“Why did you ask me to dinner?” she blurts. 

Tobin looks momentarily taken aback, and then she’s leaning onto her forearms on the table, her arms flexing in that attractive way that always gives Christen thoughts of trailing her fingers down them and seeing if she could make Tobin squirm. 

“I just thought that we should send you off onto your new adventures in style. Me and Kelley…” Tobin trails off as Christen’s face grows more sceptical by the second. 

“Really,” Christen says. It’s not quite a statement, but it’s not exactly a question either, and it hangs in the air between them for several long seconds more than is comfortable, and then Tobin’s hand is reaching across the table and the backs of her fingers brush against Christen’s, just barely touching. 

“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye,” Tobin says, her gaze not meeting Christen’s. She brushes her fingers against Christen’s again, a little harder this time, and Christen catches them, holds them, gives them a squeeze. 

“Me either,” she admits. She hesitates, the next words on the tip of her tongue, but part of her knows it’s a bad decision to say them. She does it anyway. “Not to you.”

Tobin’s eyes snap up, then, and there’s an expression on her face that almost looks like awe as she studies Christen for a moment. “Do you maybe - Can we- Can we go someplace -”

“Let’s go to my place,” Christen invites in a voice that does little to betray the way her heart is hammering in her chest and her hands feel a little clammy and the coil of tension that she’s always so successfully ignored in Tobin’s presence gets given a new life. 

  
  
  


The silence as Christen shuts the door behind them is deafening. Christen barely dares to breathe as she turns around to face Tobin, suddenly too shy to meet her eyes. 

Tobin’s fingers intertwine with hers, though, and they’re warm and a bit sweaty, and Christen realizes that she’s not the only one who’s nervous about the implications of coming here. That’s somehow enough to give Christen the confidence to lead Tobin further in to her place, towards the living room of her small apartment. 

She’s about to sit, but she feels Tobin tug at her fingers. 

“Chris,” Tobin says, the word heavy in the air despite the breathless quality to her voice. 

Christen turns and looks at her then, really looks. Tobin’s eyes are dark and her expression is serious, and Christen has never seen such blatant want written on her face before. It sends a shiver straight down Christen’s spine. 

There are a million things she wants to say in this moment. 

There are a million more that she should have said before now. 

Tobin takes a step towards her and untangles their fingers, trailing hers up Christen’s bare arm, her eyes flitting to watch it’s progress.

Goosebumps erupt on Christen’s skin and heat curls low in her gut. 

“Tobin,” she manages to croak, and then Tobin’s eyes are on her lips and all further words escape her. 

She surges forward without properly thinking it through, but then all thought becomes impossible anyway as Tobin’s lips meet hers. The kiss is forceful and needy, laden with emotions they have yet to speak. 

It’s all lips and teeth and tongue; pressure and want and wandering hands. 

Tobin’s palms press against the curve of her spine, her hands ghost over her arms and across her shoulders, her fingers lace through Christen’s hair as she cups Christen’s face. Christen feels like she’s clinging on for dear life as she clutches at Tobin’s shoulders, then her sides, and then she digs her fingers into Tobin’s hips. 

When they break apart, they’re both breathless. Christen searches Tobin’s face for any sign that they should stop, that this is a bad idea, that they’re making a huge mistake. Instead she finds such naked lust that she has to kiss her again, panting against her lips. 

“Tobin,” she murmurs as Tobin’s lips trace a wet path along her jaw. “Tobin what are -”

She’s cut off by Tobin’s lips finding hers again, and she decides, just for tonight, she doesn’t care what they’re doing. She wants this and Tobin does too, and for tonight that’s enough. 

  
  


They find their way to her room in a flurry of kisses and a whirlwind of discarded clothes. It’s only once the back of her legs hit her bed and Tobin pushes her down that she takes a second to look up at Tobin, standing before her in nothing but her boxers. 

Her breath catches in her throat and her mouth goes dry at the sight before her. Tobin’s eyes are dark and full of want, raking over Christen’s body. Her lips are swollen and red. Her hair is down and messy from where Christen’s fingers have threaded through it. It cascades over her shoulders in loose waves, stopping just where the sports bra tan turns to the pale skin of her breasts. And -

“Oh,” Christen gasps. 

God, she just wants so much. She wants to touch. She wants to kiss. And Tobin’s right there in front of her, and so she does. 

She pushes herself up off of her back and puts her hands on Tobin’s hips, guiding her forward until she’s swinging a leg over Christen’s lap and straddling her on the bed. Christen trails her hands up Tobin’s sides and feels the muscles tense beneath her touch. She places open mouthed kisses along Tobin’s jaw and down her throat, pausing to suck behind her ear when it elicits a low moan from Tobin. 

Tobin’s hips buck into her when she grazes her thumb lightly against one of Tobin’s nipples, and it encourages her to do it again with a little more pressure. 

“Fuck,” Tobin gasps. 

It’s intoxicating the way she seems to be able to get such a big response from so little, so she pushes it further, kissing her way down Tobin’s throat and bringing her other hand to Tobin’s other breast and carressing both, teasing around the nipples until Tobin’s arching into the touch and Christen is kissing across whatever she can reach: her collarbone, her chest, the top of her breasts. She rolls one nipple between her fingers as she licks at the other and Tobin’s head falls back with an “Oh, God, Chris.” 

Christen needs more. She sucks Tobin’s nipple into her mouth and hears the rush of breath as Tobin presses down into her further. She wants more, too, and the knowledge makes Christen feel powerful. 

Before she has a chance to do something about it, though, Tobin is unhooking her bra and sliding it off of her shoulders before tossing it aside, then she’s pushing her back onto her back and urging her up the bed. Tobin straddles her waist again and pauses to look down at her hungrily. 

Christen swears she can feel the way Tobin’s eyes trace over her body, burning across her skin. She’s about to protest the lack of actual contact, when Tobin is surging down to kiss her. Her mouth is greedy as it licks and kisses a path down Christen’s throat, Tobin’s fingers ghosting up her sides and down her stomach and over her hips, dipping into the waistline of her underwear. 

Where a moment before there had been too little, now there’s almost too much. Christen feels warm all over and every touch of Tobin’s fingers or her lips or her tongue only serve to feed the flame.

“Tobin-” she starts but she gets cut off halfway through in a strangled moan when Tobin’s mouth closes hot and wet around her nipple and her tongue flicks against it. 

Christen’s back arches off the bed as Tobin does it again. Tobin drags her nails over Christen’s hips as her mouth continues its ministrations, and Christen feels like she’s on the verge of sensory overload and she hasn’t even been touched where she really needs it yet. 

“God, you’re so hot,” Tobin gasps against her skin, kissing across to her other nipple and licking teasingly at it as well. “You make me- You drive me wild, Chris.” 

Tobin is a lot of things, but she’s never been much of a talker, so the way that she breathes compliments into Christen’s skin as she kisses across her stomach does almost as much for her as the touches themselves. 

“I’ve wanted- I’ve wanted this for so long,” is murmured across her hip bone. “I’ve wanted  _ you _ for so long.” 

Christen doesn’t know if it’s the sentiment or the way Tobin’s fingers are trailing along the waistband of her underwear that makes her shiver. Maybe it’s both. 

“Chris, can I-?” Tobin starts to ask, but before she can finish Christen is nodding her consent, maybe a little too eagerly, and wiggling her hips to help Tobin pull off her underwear. 

Tobin stops for a moment once she’s tossed it aside, and Christen feels self-conscious for the first time since they started this as Tobin looks, eyes dragging slowly up, taking all of her in. 

“Tobin,” she croaks, and she hates the way her voice sounds as vulnerable as she feels, but then Tobin is kissing at her thighs and nudging her legs wider, trailing fingers up the inside of her legs and Christen loses all coherent thought at the first brush of Tobin’s fingers through her wetness. 

She groans out a long, “Fuuuck,” as Tobin’s fingers circle her clit and her tongue dances teasingly on her inner thigh, neither quite where she needs it, but driving her insane nonetheless. 

“You like that?” Tobin’s breath falls hot against her clit and that alone is almost enough, she’s so worked up. 

“Tobin you need-” Her sentence is cut off as Tobin’s tongue flicks against her clit and she cries out in response, hips bucking up, urging her to do it again, to touch her more, directing her to where she wants her. 

“I need to what?” Tobin teases a kiss into her thigh. 

“You need to touch me,” Christen pleads. 

Tobin trails a finger over Christen’s hip and then down to circle her clit and back up. “I’m pretty sure I am touching you,” she chuckles, and Christen wants to scream. 

She’s so turned on and Tobin is doing anything but what Christen needs her to do. 

“Was it somewhere specific you wanted me to touch you?” Tobin asks, placing far too chaste a kiss right on Christen’s clit. 

“Fuck! Tobin if you don’t fuck me soon, I’m going to do it myself!”

Tobin makes a small choking sound and Christen glances down and is rewarded by Tobin looking at her, eyes wide. 

And then Tobin is licking up and through her, tongue lapping at her clit, fingers sliding in her, working up a steady rhythm. It won’t take much. Christen’s already so close, but she needs to feel closer to her. She needs  _ her _ . Tonight, just for tonight, she needs to know they’re in this together. 

She finds Tobin’s hand that’s pressing into her stomach and threads her fingers through Tobin’s, tugging her up. 

Tobin doesn’t get it at first, squeezing her hand, but continuing to lick and suck at Christen’s clit, and she’s so close and it feels so good, her hips are lifting off the bed of their own accord, but she wants to see Tobin. She wants Tobin to know exactly what she’s doing to her. She wants this memory to last. 

She tugs again, and Tobin seems to get it then, kissing her way up Christen’s body, adjusting the angle of her thrusts so that she hits a little deeper, curling her fingers just so, so that Christen can’t help but moan. 

And then Tobin is there, and she’s kissing her deeply, and Christen can taste herself on Tobin’s tongue, and Tobin is whispering, “God, Chris,” is saying, “Fuck you’re so wet,” is murmuring, “You’re so fucking sexy.” 

Christen looks into dark brown eyes that are so familiar and yet not familiar enough and Tobin curls her fingers again, pressing down into her with the weight of her body behind the thrust, and then Christen’s eyes slam shut and her whole body shakes through her orgasm as she moans, “Don’t stop,” and “Fuck, I’m coming,” and Tobin murmurs, “That’s it, baby. Come for me.”

  
  


Tobin looks almost shy when she rolls off, and Christen feels the absence of her weight on top of her like an ache in her chest. She’s not ready for this night to end. She’s not ready to say goodbye yet. She pulls Tobin back to her and kisses her deeply, biting at her lip before pulling back to look in her eyes, and she’s rewarded by seeing the heat back in Tobin’s gaze. 

“I didn’t mean to-” 

But Christen doesn’t want to know the end of that sentence. She’s not sure she’d believe it anyway. “Tobin, I need to feel you. I need to...Can I?” 

Christen rolls Tobin onto her back as she toys with the waistline of Tobin’s boxers, kissing at her jaw.

“You don’t - You don’t have to,” Tobin mumbles. 

Christen pulls back enough to look Tobin in the eyes. There’s want there, but something else, too. Uncertainty, maybe, like she’s not sure what Christen really wants here. 

“I want to,” Christen assures her, kisses her softly, tenderly. “I want to make you scream my name.” Tobin’s abs tense beneath her fingers at her words and Christen kisses across Tobin’s jaw to her ear where she whispers, “Want to make you come.” Christen feels Tobin’s entire body shiver, and when she glances back at Tobin’s face she sees that her eyes have fluttered shut and she’s biting on her lip. 

Christen slips her fingers under the waistband of Tobin’s boxers and murmurs, “I want  _ you _ ,” against the smooth skin of Tobin’s throat before raking her teeth down it, then soothing the skin over with her tongue. 

Tobin whimpers, and lifts her hips. It’s all the invitation Christen needs. 

Tobin’s boxers are on the floor in a heartbeat and then she’s really there, naked beneath her. Christen slots a leg between hers, forcing Tobin’s legs a little wider. She can’t help but smile when her thigh is met with the slickness between Tobin’s legs. She’s far from the only one affected tonight. 

She leans into Tobin a bit more, applying a bit more pressure, and Tobin grinds up onto her leg, a moan falling from her lips. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” It slips out before Christen’s thought about it, but she doesn’t care. She won’t take it back. She won’t take anything back tonight. 

(She’ll bite back a few things though. Things like how she’s wanted this for so long, how she’s dreamed of this moment. Things that will lead her to question why she didn’t act sooner. 

Things that will make her wonder “what if”.)

“Chris, you make me so wet,” Tobin moans as Christen ghosts her hands across toned abs. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” 

Christen swallows hard at the question, and kisses her response away, lips trailing across Tobin’s collarbones, teeth grazing against the smooth skin of Tobin’s shoulder. 

“Chris,” the moan is breathy as Tobin thrusts upwards, and it’s enough to send a shiver straight down Christen’s spine. 

She gets the hint, but she ignores it, understanding now why Tobin had taken the time to tease her before. She doesn’t want this to stop. She doesn’t want this to end. She wants to draw out this moment, this time with Tobin, for as long as she can. She doesn’t want to think about tomorrows or goodbyes. She wants to relish in every sound she can get Tobin to make. She wants to map every freckle, trace every line, commit everything about Tobin’s body to memory. 

She takes her time, kissing as much of Tobin as she can, leaving wet trails across her breasts, down her stomach, over her hips. Tobin is squirming beneath her by the time she’s nudging her legs further apart and settling between them. Her first taste of Tobin makes Tobin’s hips buck off the bed and her head slam back into the pillow, and produces the most gorgeous groan from Tobin’s throat that she’s ever heard. She licks through her again, experimentally, flicking her tongue up and over Tobin’s clit, then licking through her again. It’s nothing that’s going to make her come, Christen knows, but seeing how the tiniest changes in her technique make Tobin’s body quiver or elicit a different sound from her gives Christen a thrill.

Tobin’s fingers tangle in her hair, and Christen knows she wants, no,  _ needs _ more. Christen circles Tobin’s clit closer and closer with her fingers as she continues to lick at her with no real rhythm until Tobin’s fingers dig almost painfully into her scalp and she whimpers, “Baby, please!” and then Christen can’t hold back anymore. She sucks Tobin’s clit into her mouth, licking at it, pressing her tongue against it with just the right amount of pressure as she thrusts two fingers in. Tobin’s entire body seems to contract as she cries out, and Tobin’s fingers tighten in her hair while her other fist grasps at the sheets. 

It doesn’t take long once she finds the right rhythm, the one that has Tobin panting and moaning, “Don’t stop. Right there, baby. God, I’m so close.” 

And then Tobin’s clamping down around her fingers and her legs are shaking and a string of curses leave her mouth, and Christen rides it out with her. She brings her down gently, kissing her way up Tobin’s body before slowly pulling her fingers out and licking them clean. She catches Tobin watching her with a heated glance and it’s then that she blushes. 

It’s almost too much, the self-consciousness, the flood of emotions, but then Tobin is kissing her again, and she shoves it all away. It’s tomorrow’s problem. 

Tonight Tobin Heath is in her bed and there’s still plenty of time to make the most of it. 

  
  
  


They don’t dwell in the goodbyes. They don’t talk about the night before. They don’t acknowledge the way that they woke up naked, curled around each other, hands pressed against bare skin. 

(The closest they come to talking about it at all is before they even fell asleep the night before. A whispered, “We can’t let Kelley find out” and a murmur of agreement to the effect of, “She’d never let us live it down.”)

Instead, there’s a lingering hug and a kiss on the cheek. There’s a “Be in touch soon, okay?” and an empty promise of, “I will.” 

There’s a small smile thrown over a shoulder as Tobin walks away, that little half smile that always, ALWAYS, hits Christen right in the chest.

There’s a hand held up in a silent goodbye that Christen only drops to her side when Tobin rounds the corner out of sight. 

She bites back the tears, swallows the lump in her throat down, pretends that her mouth doesn’t feel so dry. 

(She doesn’t acknowledge the ache in her chest until she knows that Tobin and Kelley are on a plane flying away from her and out of her life.)

She starts applying for jobs the next day. She tells herself that she didn’t just let the most amazing part of her life walk right out of it. 

  
  


Christen doesn’t get the first job she applies for. She doesn’t get the second, either. She at least gets a call back from the third, but a polite, sympathetic-sounding lady on the phone informs her that they’ve decided to go with someone else. 

She gets a tip, though, about a human resources position with a new company, and that proves fruitful. 

She doesn’t love her job, but she doesn’t hate it, and Marjory always has a new picture of her dogs to show her and a new story about her grandson to share, and Kate always stops by with fresh coffee in the mornings, and Christen settles in and starts to feel like maybe she hasn’t made a huge mistake giving up on her first dream. 

  
  


She stays busy. She visits her parents on days off or on weekends and she starts journalling and takes some paint and sip classes and tries salsa dancing - anything to fill her weeks, anything to busy her downtime. The busier she is, the less time she has to think. The less time she has to miss. 

Kelley and Tobin text regularly at first. They’ve got plenty of downtime before and after practices, during recovery days, during travel days. Christen tries to text back, she does. It’s just that she doesn’t like to text at work, even though it’s not expressly forbidden, and then sometimes she gets home and she’s exhausted, and other times she has plans, and she doesn’t  _ mean _ to forget to text back, but it happens more than she’d like to admit. 

For all their downtime, their lives are busy too and they have teammates and friends and family to juggle on top of their practices, so the texts slow down and promises to visit the next time they’re in town stop coming. 

Christen thinks it’s better this way. 

She doesn’t watch their games. Maybe someday, she thinks, but right now the ache that soccer has left in her, this void in the middle of her chest, is too strong. 

Right now she is building her life without soccer, and, really, that’s for the best. 

  
  


The company folds within the year, but Christen had seen the writing on the wall and Kate had already put out feelers, and when she gets taken on with a big PR firm, she brings Christen with her. It involves a move a little further away from her parents and a busier schedule, but the pay is better, too, and the room for advancement is enticing. 

Christen’s always been a good writer and a good speaker, so it doesn’t take long before management notices her and she gets bumped from being essentially a glorified assistant to working with a small team on promotional material for clients, to managing that team within a year. The bosses admire her creativity and her tenacity, her colleagues appreciate her humanity and her genuineness, and the clients benefit from all of it. 

When she helps cinch a big contract for the firm, Kate takes her out to dinner. 

“You’re making a name for yourself, you know,” Kate informs her. 

It’s easy for her to say. She’s already done it. She came into the company on the management level. Still, the compliment coaxes a blush from Christen. 

“You think?” 

“For sure. I knew you had promise the day I met you,” Kate replies. 

Kate has kind blue eyes, pale skin, and dark hair. She’s professional and organized and has a wicked sarcastic sense of humor. 

She’s nothing like Tobin. 

As Kate leans across the table and reaches out a hand, Christen wonders if maybe that’s exactly what she needs. 

  
  


The league folds, too. She doesn’t seek out the information, but it finds her anyway. She sends out a pretty noncommittal expression of condolences, carefully worded to be sympathetic but not emotional. Tobin doesn’t text back and she doesn’t take it personally. She’s dealt with her dreams being crushed. Tobin hasn’t. Besides, she’s still getting national team call-ups. Not watching the games doesn’t mean that she doesn’t check the roster from time to time. She always clicks away quickly after she sees the two names that are most important to her, before she can catch just how many other familiar names from her college days have gotten the call up that she never did. 

It’s Kelley who tells her that Tobin is going to Europe to play. 

Christen tells herself that doesn’t sting. She tells herself that the distance between them doesn’t feel greater than ever. She tells herself it’s the time zone difference that keeps her from texting her for the next few months. 

  
  


Christen’s career continues to advance, but her relationship with Kate is short-lived. They’re too similar. They grate on each other too much. When they get worked up about work things they bring it home, they let it sink into their relationship. There’s nobody to chill them out, to help them relax. Their stress feeds into each other’s. 

Six months in and they’re having a conversation about how maybe it’s better that they go back to being friends and colleagues. 

Christen does her best to ignore the way that she feels more relieved than anything. 

(She pretends that when she texts Tobin later that night, just a simple text, just asking how she’s doing, that it’s just a coincidence, that the timing doesn’t mean anything.)

(She doesn’t hear back until late the next day.)

  
  


Two months later the bosses call her in and talk to her about a transfer. It means working across the country from her family and her friends, but it means a raise and a promotion and a lot more responsibility. Instead of dread, Christen feels the prickling of excitement. 

She’s putting in the work and she’s wanting the advancement and she’s getting noticed for it. It feels good to be noticed for her effort. It feels good to be rewarded for it. 

  
  


She’s been in Boston for all of two weeks when she decides she needs a dog. She’d found an apartment with a good pet policy just in case. She misses Khaleesi and Morena. She misses her mom and dad. 

(She doesn’t think about other people that she’s been missing for longer.)

She falls in love with Baxter as soon as she lays eyes on him. He’s a rottweiler mix with soulful eyes and a love of belly rubs who’s been in the shelter for a whole year, and Christen is loathe to let him spend even one more day there. 

It’s only once she’s signed the paperwork that she notices the shy smile of the girl behind the counter. She has hazel eyes with flecks of gold, cute dimples on tanned skin, and honey-gold, shoulder-length hair that falls in soft waves around her face. She looks at the animals in her care with such love that Christen feels an instant connection to her. 

She leaves the shelter with a date to come and pick Baxter up and Elena’s number in her pocket. 

  
  


Elena is good at making her laugh. She’s good at helping her unwind after a long day at work. She’s good at helping her through her most stressful days. She’s quick with a smile and gentle with her touches and good at knowing when Christen just needs a little space. It’s always then that she sends Baxter to do the comforting, and that’s more helpful than anything. 

At the four month mark, Christen realizes that she’s feeling stirrings inside her that she never had with Kate. 

Christen is telling a story about an idiot client who didn’t seem to understand that women are actually a portion of the population that might be interested in his product if he wasn’t such a misogynist about everything and Elena throws her head back and laughs in an unrestrained kind of way, and Christen just watches with a smile on her face, her eyes tracing the lines of her throat, then coming up to catch the crinkles around her eyes when Elena looks back at her. 

A month later she asks Elena to move in with her. 

  
  


“I didn’t know you played soccer.” 

Christen frowns at the comment. It’s strange to think that something that was once such a huge part of her life is now so absent from it that her girlfriend doesn’t even know she played. She glances over her shoulder from where she’s clearing a drawer to make space for Elena’s stuff, and Elena’s holding up the Hermann trophy that she’d shoved on the shelf in her closet just to get it out of sight. 

“Oh, um, yeah. When I was in school,” Christen replies dismissively. It’s gotten easier, over the years, to ignore the aching tug in her chest when the subject of soccer comes up. 

“You were good!” Elena says, hoisting the trophy up. 

Christen shrugs. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“You don’t play anymore?” 

Christen shakes her head. 

“Did you ever want to go pro? I mean you played at college. You played WELL at college.” Elena lifts the trophy again for emphasis. “Isn’t that kind of the path to the pros?” 

Christen takes a deep breath. She doesn’t really want to talk about it, but it’s Elena and she doesn’t want to shut her out. She cares about her. She really likes her. This could really be something with her. “I thought I wanted to, for a while, but it just wasn’t in the cards for me,” she replies with a shaky voice. 

Elena can read her well. It’s one of the things she likes about her. She puts the trophy back where it was without being asked and moves to wrap Christen in a hug. “I’m sorry. That’s gotta be tough.”

Christen doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to. She sinks into the embrace instead and closes her eyes as Elena kisses her temple. 

“If you ever want to play, just for fun, nothing serious, there’s a pick up game by my place...my old one, I mean...every Saturday. I play in it sometimes. No pressure though.”

Christen nods, but doesn’t reply. For the first time in years she thinks maybe it might be nice to kick a ball around a little bit. Maybe with no expectations, no hopes for call ups, no pressure to perform, maybe it could be fun again. 

She presses her thanks for the idea into Elena’s skin, unpacking her clothes forgotten for now. 

  
  


News of the new league makes Christen wonder if Tobin’s going to come back to the States. She doesn’t text to find out. She’s not sure if Tobin even has the same number. She knows Kelley will be happy, though. She’ll get to play again. 

Christen doesn’t take the time to wonder if maybe she’d have been able to cut it in the new league. 

Instead, she laces up her boots on a park bench in Boston on a Saturday afternoon and marvels at how the action feels both familiar and foreign at the same time. 

“You ready?” Elena asks with a smile, holding out a hand to help her up. 

Christen takes it with an answering smile and a fluttering of nerves in her gut, but she nods anyway. “As I’ll ever be.” 

The second the ball touches her feet she realizes how much she’s missed it. 

When she scores her first goal ten minutes in and her teammates, some friends, others acquaintances she just met, rush her for a celebration, she remembers why she loved the game in the first place. 

Her footwork is rusty, but it comes back to her quicker than she’d expected. Her stamina isn’t bad, though. She’s kept active, stayed fit with gym days and regular runs and salsa dancing every Thursday night. 

By the end of the match she’s scored three more and everyone on both teams is either congratulating her or complimenting her. She doesn’t remember the last time she smiled so wide for so long. It’s the first time that she thinks that maybe she can have soccer in her life again without it completely taking over. 

“You’re amazing!” Elena exclaims, pulling her into a kiss, and Christen grins. 

“Guess I’ve still got it.” 

“Babe, you’ve DEFINITELY still got it,” Elena replies, and the pride evident in her voice makes Christen smile even wider. 

  
  


She joins a rec league at Elena’s suggestion. The Saturday games in the park have been a blessing. They’ve given her a solid friend group and restored her love of the game, but she longs for something a little more competitive. It’s in her nature. She can’t help it. 

They win their first two games, tie their third, and win their fourth and Elena screams her head off cheering in the stands every single time. It fills Christen with such warmth that she can’t help but blurt out, “I love you so much,” as she kisses her after game five, their first loss of the season. 

Elena’s cheeks flush and she smiles brighter than the sun and Tobin doesn’t enter Christen’s thoughts for a whole week afterwards. 

It’s the first time that’s happened and it feels strange when she realizes it, but she’s got work and she’s got soccer again, and she has Baxter and Elena, and this is starting to feel like the life she was meant to be living all along. 

  
  


Elena takes her to a Boston Breakers game for their one year anniversary. She really should have checked to see who they were playing first, but it’s her first professional game since she walked away from the sport, so she’s been mentally preparing for it anyway. Elena had known better than to surprise her with it. 

It still hits like a punch to the gut when she sees Kelley warming up on the field, laughing with her teammates, oblivious to Christen’s presence in the stands. She’s hit with a flood of memories of running out onto a soccer pitch with Kelley, cracking jokes, playing together, scoring together, celebrating wins and mourning losses. It stings more than she’d expected. 

“You okay?” Elena asks in her ear. The arm she wraps around Christen’s waist is warm and comforting and Christen leans into it. “We don’t have to stay if you don’t want.” 

Christen is torn. She wants to stay, she wants to watch, but it hurts, too. She needs to be able to handle this, though. The Kelley on the field isn’t the same one she played with in college. They’ve gone on to lead separate lives. Kelley’s life has olympic gold medals and World Cup games. Christen’s life has meetings and promotions and Elena and Baxter. Kelley’s life has uncertainty and the constant possibility of a career-ending injury. Christen’s life has stability and comfort and a retirement plan. 

“No, I’m good. I want to stay.” 

  
  


She knows she’s in Boston territory, but she can’t help cheering for Kelley every time she touches the ball, despite the glares from some of the fans around her. 

She sees Kelley’s growl in frustration when Boston goes up by one in the 14th minute.

She cheers louder than she probably should when Sky Blue equalizes in the 30th minute, but just before the half Boston goes up again. 

Kelley’s face is downcast, her jaw set as she jogs off the field for halftime. Christen feels a tug in her chest. She’s had those games. She remembers those locker-room conversations, heavy with the thoughts of missed chances and spoiled opportunities. She remembers the blame game that comes with your team being behind. 

Her league isn’t that serious. She hasn’t felt that pressure in years, and suddenly she’s incredibly thankful for it. 

The second half feels like it drags on. Sky Blue gets a few chances, but none of them make it into the back of the net and Boston is quick to clear the ball out of their defensive third every time. 

Boston scores again in the 60th minute and Christen can read the frustration all over Kelley’s face as her teammates start to drag their feet like they’ve already lost. 

In the third minute of extra time a Sky Blue player manages to sink one more into the back of the net, but it’s too little, too late, and the goal celebration is barely there as the final whistle blows a minute later and the Boston players erupt into cheers. 

Kelley’s face reads somewhere between annoyed and upset, as she stands in the middle of the pitch, her shoulders slumped forward dejectedly. 

Christen remembers games past where she’d stood beside her, the toes of her boots digging into the ground, until Kelley inevitably took a deep breath and forced on a grin and cracked jokes until they were both laughing for real. 

Kelley doesn’t do that now. Instead, she goes through the motions of congratulating the other team. There are some hugs as friends she’s clearly played with before are greeted, but her expression barely changes as she heads for the tunnel. 

Christen can’t help herself. She’s close enough to call out and so she does. 

“Hey, O’Hara!” 

Kelley doesn’t hear her at first, so she calls out again. 

“GO CARDINALS! WE ARE STANFORD!”

Kelley’s head snaps up and her eyes search the stands until she sees her, and then her face breaks into a broad grin and she’s running over.

Christen pushes her way down to the railing as Kelley pulls herself up into the stands. She’s sweaty and kind of gross, but Christen doesn’t care as Kelley wraps her in a hug. 

“PRESSY?” 

The shout is loud and right in her ear, but Christen finds herself laughing. 

“Hi, Kel.”

Kelley breaks away and looks at her, eyes wide as if she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. “You’re at my game!”

“Apparently.”

“Like, you’re actually at one of my games. In person. You. Christen Press.”

Christen laughs, but she can feel heat creeping up her cheeks and she knows she’s blushing. “That’s me.”

Kelley hugs her again, tighter. “Oh my God!” Kelley exclaims as she releases her. “Wait, why are you in Boston?”

Christen is aware of Elena coming up behind her. She’s aware of the familiar arm wrapping around her waist. She’s aware of Kelley’s eyes dropping to the touch and the way her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It’s the first time she’s wished that Elena maybe weren’t so touchy-feely. 

“Um, I live here!”

“Really?” There’s a flash of something that Christen can’t quite read on Kelley’s face, but then it’s gone, and she’s looking expectantly at Elena, who is looking expectantly at Christen. 

“Yeah. Um, Kelley, this is my girlfriend, Elena. Elena, this is my friend Kelley from college.” 

Elena’s extending a hand for Kelley to shake, but an overzealous fan gets in the way, demanding an autograph, and Kelley shoots them an apologetic look as her official duties take over. 

“Find the team bus! Wait near it! I’ll find you!” Kelley shouts as she hops back over the railing and onto the field. 

  
  


They go for coffee and the conversation flows easily. 

Kelley’s tired from the game and she has travel coming up, but she hasn’t stopped smiling since they sat down. 

Elena’s a little star struck. First by Kelley and then, once the stories start coming out, by Christen herself. She can see the awe on her face as Kelley relives assists and goals that she and Christen shared. 

It feels like a lifetime ago instead of just a few years. 

“I’ve missed you, Chris,” Kelley says, and it hits her right in the chest. 

“Yeah. I’ve missed you, too.” It’s not a lie, but it doesn’t feel fully like the truth either, she’s surprised to find. Not anymore. It’s not that she hasn’t missed Kelley, but she has new friends now. Good friends. She has a girlfriend who she loves and a sweetheart of a dog who thinks he’s a lapdog even though he weighs almost as much as her, and a job that she likes and that she’s good at. Somewhere along the line, without properly realizing it, she’s built a life for herself, and she’s happy in it. 

“So, Gold in London, huh?” Christen asks, deflecting, and then Kelley is laughing again and telling her all about it. 

  
  


She doesn’t ask, but Kelley tells her anyway. Tobin’s in Portland. She got picked up by the Thorns. It’s the place that everyone wants to be. The soccer culture there is above and beyond. The crowds that Tobin and the Thorns draw on a weekly basis make the paltry attendance at the Harvard Stadium today pale in comparison. 

Kelley doesn’t sound bitter about it, though. She’s happy. Happy to be playing the sport that she loves. Happy for her friend. Happy in her life. 

Christen’s glad to see it. 

“You guys getting ready for the World Cup? It’s only next year.” 

“Oh, trust me, we know!” Kelley laughs. “You should come to a game! It’s only in Canada! Tobs would love to see you!” 

“Yeah! That might be fun. Maybe we can make the trip up to a game in, like, Montreal or something,” Christen says, realizing only after the fact that she’s just suggested that she and Elena will still be together in over a year. She hasn’t thought in any concrete forms about their future together, but Elena’s smiling like it’s no big deal and Kelley glosses past it, so Christen doesn’t know why there’s suddenly this uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

“I mean it, Chris. You really should come! And let me know if you do. I’ll hook you up VIP style,” Kelley says with a wink, and Christen has to laugh. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll think about it.” 

  
  
  


It’s only when they’re hugging goodbye, Elena already gone to get the car from where they had to park several blocks away, that Kelley turns to her with a serious expression. 

“You seem good, Chris. You seem...happy.” 

Christen smiles. “I am.” 

“You don’t miss it?” 

Christen doesn’t have to ask what she means. She shrugs. “Not really. Not anymore. I play in a rec league now.”

Kelley perks up at this. “Really? Are you killing it? I bet you’re killing it.”

Christen laughs and shrugs. “I do okay. It’s nice to play.” 

“You know you could’ve made it big with us, right? You always had the skill. You’d have gotten the call. I know it.”

Christen shakes her head, and she realizes she’s made peace with her decision. Truly. “I’m good here. I like it here.”

“Your girlfriend’s cute,” Kelley teases. 

Christen smiles. “Yeah she is.” 

Kelley’s expression turns serious for another second. She opens and closes her mouth a few times as if she’s debating saying something. In the end she pulls Christen into a tight hug as her taxi pulls up. 

“Take care of yourself, Pressy. Don’t be a stranger. Jersey’s not that far, you know?”

“Yeah. It was good to see you, Kel.”

They don’t say the words, but it still feels like “Goodbye.” 

  
  


Christen doesn’t bring up going to the World Cup in Canada and Elena doesn’t ask. They do watch the games on TV, though, cheering for the US. It’s the first time Christen’s brought herself to watch the USWNT play since she had hopes of becoming one of them. It feels like a big step, even if taking it just means snuggling up on her couch with a bottle of wine in her sweatpants. 

When Kelley scores her goal against Germany, Kelley who used to score so many goals, who Christen last saw playing as a forward but is now somehow holding down the backline like she’s always played there, Christen is up and out of her seat. She’s jumping for joy and screaming at her TV and she doesn’t even care that Elena is looking at her in this fond, amused kind of way rather than joining in her celebration because Kelley O’Hara, her friend from college, her old teammate, just scored in the semifinal match of the World Cup. 

She’s proud in a way she never would have imagined possible a few years ago. It doesn’t matter that they’ve largely lost touch. It doesn’t matter that they don’t play together anymore. It doesn’t matter that Christen doesn’t play at that level. That doesn’t hurt. Not now. Not in this moment. 

She shoots off a congratulations text with far too many exclamation marks that she knows Kelley isn’t likely to get for hours yet. Kelley is going to be a star now. Not that she wasn’t already, but a goal at the World Cup representing the US as a defender? That’s huge. 

It’s why she’s so surprised when she gets a text back quickly, but as she reads it realization dawns. It says simply “Sorry. Think you have the wrong number.”

She swallows down the sudden lump in her throat at the thought that she doesn’t actually know how to contact Kelley anymore. It was silly to think her number would never change when she knows that her own has, but Christen hadn’t thought to check her contact info when she’d seen her. 

It feels like the final closure of that chapter of her life. 

She doesn’t watch the final live, instead checking the score online periodically and smiling when the US wins the whole thing. 

Kelley and Tobin are now Olympic gold medalists and World Cup Champions. They’ll wear three stars on their national jerseys. 

And Christen-

Christen’s up for a promotion at work and she has a girlfriend who doesn’t ask questions when she suddenly skips a few practices for her league and she has a dog who snuggles into her side at night when she needs it most, even if there’s not really space for him in the bed and he’s supposed to sleep on the floor. 

  
  


Christen gets an offer that she can’t refuse. For starters, it’s a lot more money. Like a  _ lot _ . Of course, that comes with more responsibility, but Christen doesn’t mind that. She likes a challenge. She likes being kept on her toes. She hates it when work feels stagnant. There’s also the fact that she’d actually be able to do some work that’s a little more meaningful. It’s not that she doesn’t like her PR firm. She does. She works with some great people and they have a few clients who are amazing and really doing things to better their communities. 

The new job, though, it’s not for a firm as an underling, it’s  _ director _ of public relations for a nonprofit. It’s making connections in communities that need it most, making sure people who need resources can find them. The new job means making a difference. 

She can’t turn it down.

The problem is that it’s based in Baltimore. It’s really the only drawback. 

It’s not  _ that _ far, but it’s far enough. 

Christen leaves Baxter with Elena. It’s her way of promising to visit as often as she can. 

Her new job keeps her busy, though. The previous person to occupy the position had really not understood all that he needed to be doing, so she has to clean up a lot of his messes as well as initiating new projects and she gets hiring control, so she’s expanding her own team and conducting interviews herself, and it’s all great, but it leaves little time or energy for people at the end of the day. 

Facetime sessions become less frequent. 

Soon it’s a phone call twice a week. 

Then just texts, usually just pictures of Baxter, really. 

She’s not surprised when the text that reads, “We need to talk” comes in. She knows the conversation that’s coming. 

It’s not really either of their fault. The break up is amicable enough, too. Elena offers to send the remainder of her stuff rather than making her travel to pick it up and insists that Christen doesn’t have to pay her back for shipping. 

Christen tells Elena to keep Baxter. She loves him as much as Christen does and her new place just isn’t pet friendly. It wouldn’t be fair to Baxter to make him make the move. 

Elena assures her that she’ll be welcome to visit anytime she’s in Boston, and then she makes Christen make a promise that surprises her. 

“Keep playing. Don’t let work consume you. I’ve seen you play, Chris. You light up like no time else. You love the game, so don’t stop playing, okay?”

Christen hears herself agreeing as she swallows down the lump in her throat. She swallows down an “I love you” at the end of the conversation, too. She doesn’t really have the right to say it to her anymore. Not like that. 

She’s in a new town with a new job that she really wants and she feels more lost than she has in years. 

  
  
  


She finds love next where she least expects to. It’s not the romantic kind, but that’s not what she needs in her life right now anyway. 

She’s not sure what makes her stop at the community center. Maybe it’s the boisterous laughter from the group of little boys all huddled around a collection of old comic books. Maybe it’s the teenage girls sitting on the steps helping each other through some homework but still clearly struggling with the material. 

(Maybe it’s the girl kicking around a soccer ball in a way that makes her think “Tobin”, all quick touches and trick shots.)

Either way, she does. 

She introduces herself to the director, a tired-looking woman in her 50s with kind eyes and a full-bellied laugh. She offers some of her services and asks about their needs. 

Her eyes glance out the window to the girl with the tattered soccer ball and asks what equipment they could use. 

“What about coaches? Do you have any teams?” 

“Basketball,” Louise confirms. “Coach from the high school comes round in the summer to do some football, too.”

“What about soccer?”

Louise shakes her head. 

“I’ll coach. If there’s interest, I mean.” The words are out before she’s really thought through them. She’s not sure she really has the time, after all. But she can’t stop watching the little girl out the window. She doesn’t even have a proper goal to play with, but she’s got promise and Christen knows she could help. 

“You sure, sweetie?” Louise asks. 

Christen’s nodding before she can think better of it. 

  
  


The community center becomes her second home. When she’s not at work she’s there. She organizes fundraisers and even pulls in local sponsors for the sports teams until their equipment needs are met and the kids are standing tall in their crisp new jerseys. 

The girl she saw on her first visit, Kiona, becomes the star of her fledgling co-ed soccer team. She’s older than Christen had initially thought at 16, but she’s small for her age and light on her feet. She has speed that means she can beat just about anyone to the ball and a work ethic that means that her natural talents won’t be squandered. 

Within a year Kiona is captaining the 15-17 year-old division and helping Christen coach the 5-10 year-olds. 

Christen is delighted to find that she’s as sharp with her schoolwork as she is with her soccer schools, and she pushes her to dream bigger than her community college plans. 

When Christen helps her send off her application to Stanford, a verbose and glowing recommendation from herself included, she crosses her fingers and says a prayer to anyone who might be listening that Kiona gets in. 

  
  


Christen keeps her promise to Elena, too. She finds a new league and she plays better soccer than she has in years. 

Kiona comes to every game, usually with a group of other kids from the center. 

Christen does her best to show them how it’s done. It’s a type of pressure, but it’s nothing like it used to be, and she relishes the drive it creates in her to work harder and try better. 

In one season she doubles her number of goals for her team. Her second year she takes home the title of league MVP. It’s not an Olympic medal or a World Cup trophy, but the award sits proudly on her bookshelf alongside her Hermann trophy. 

  
  


When the USWNT qualifies for the 2019 World Cup in France, Christen isn’t remotely surprised. They’re going in as the favorites to win the whole thing. 

She holds viewing parties at the community center and Kiona, who’s home from Stanford for the summer, helps her set up the projector screen in the main gym. Everyone is dressed in reds and blues and whites. Christen does face paint for those who want it, with Louise’s help. 

It feels like the whole community shows up to support the USWNT and the cheers every time the US scores can probably be heard for blocks. 

Christen is sure to point out Kelley on the screen to Kiona, reminding her that she once played for the same team that Kiona does now. 

“That could be you someday. If you want it,” she tells her, and she means it wholeheartedly. 

Kiona, laughs and shakes her head, her braids falling into her face. “Nah,” she replies, but Christen sees a twinkle in her eyes and thinks, “Maybe.”

  
  
  


Things at work are good. Really good. Her teams are operating well, problem-solving from within. She has some really bright minds coming up with creative ideas, new ways to outreach, new campaigns in the works, and the bigwigs are talking expansion to the West Coast. 

The community center is doing great, too. She’s helped them secure funding for their sports teams for the next two years. She has a few kids who’ve graduated but stayed local helping with the coaching. Louise is still every bit as in charge as she always was, and Christen’s given her some tools to use to help the center grow even more. Christen’s not really needed there anymore. 

Maybe it’s those facts that make her go online one night and book the flight. Maybe it’s just that she’s overdue some vacation time. 

Maybe it’s because her friends won the World Cup for the second time and it’s been far too long since she’s seen them. 

Whatever the reason, she finds herself in Salt Lake City with a ticket to a Utah Royal’s game in hand. 

  
  


Kelley is fierce as a defender. She knows this, of course, from watching her play on TV, but she’s even more impressive in person. She’s like a brick wall that can also slide tackle. She carries this power with her as she moves, in the way she stands, in the way she just exists on the field and Christen can’t help but be a bit in awe. It reminds her, briefly, of the way she felt meeting Kelley freshman year of college when she was the talented, vivacious sophomore and Christen was still trying to figure out who she was and where she fit on the team. 

She watches the whole game either on her feet or on the verge of jumping to them, she’s sure much to the annoyance of the people behind her. She doesn’t care though. 

Utah ties and she knows it’s not the outcome that Kelley wanted, but she hopes that what she’s planning will replace the determined look on her face with a smile. 

She waits until Kelley is near her section, signing some autographs, then she belts out, “GO CARDINALS! WE ARE STANFORD!”

Kelley’s head snaps up and she finds her quickly in the front row. 

Her entire face lights up and she’s calling to a security guy to help Christen down onto the field. 

Kelley pinches her cheek when she gets down to her and Christen pulls away in surprise more than pain, but she still says, “Ow!”

“You’re real! You’re not a dream!” Kelley replies. 

“You know you’re supposed to pinch YOURSELF to see if you’re dreaming,” Christen points out with a shake of her head and a laugh. 

Kelley shrugs, then grins at her and pulls her into a bone-crushing hug. She lifts her clear off her feet and spins her around before putting her back down as Christen laughs through her own protests. 

“Pressy, you’re really here! You’re here! At my game!”

“I am!” Christen confirms. It feels like ages since anyone has called her Pressy, and it gives her a warm fuzzy feeling inside. 

“I haven’t seen you in -” Kelley starts counting on her fingers and Christen laughs. 

“Five years,” she supplies. 

“Wow. Five years,” Kelley muses. 

“And two World Cups,” Christen adds. “Congrats, by the way.”

Kelley puffs up her chest proudly. “Well, you know, four stars ain’t bad.” She brushes off her chest and smirks, and then she’s laughing and looking at Christen like she still can’t believe what she’s seeing. “You look good!”

“You do too,” Christen replies. “You know I tried texting after you scored that goal against Germany, but your number had changed.”

“You know I did tell you to COME to an actual game, if I recall correctly,” Kelley points out. 

Christen holds up her hands and shrugs. “Well I’m here now?”

Kelley hugs her again, squeezing her tight. “You ARE!” she declares, too loud in Christen ear, but Christen just can’t bring herself to mind. 

And then Kelley’s pulling away and grabbing her by the hand and leading her onto the field, shouting, “Becky! Becky! Come meet my friend, Pressy!” 

  
  


After she’s met all of Kelley’s teammates, and her coach, and it feels like the entire staff for the Utah Royals; after Kelley has showered and changed and Christen has spent far too long lingering awkwardly outside the team locker room, they go out to dinner. 

It’s different than coffee had been the last time. Christen’s no longer careful with her words because she doesn’t need to be. Any lingering jealousy or sense of regret she might have had last time has truly left her now, and she just feels joy for her old friend’s accomplishments. 

Kelley in turn seems to have no filter, but, then again, she never really had too much of one to begin with. 

They talk about the World Cups and the not so stellar Olympics in between. They talk about the NWSL and rumors of league expansion and teammates current and retired. They talk about Christen’s work and the community center and Kiona. They talk about who they’ve kept in touch with from college and where people ended up. 

Kelley asks about Elena and Christen explains about the life she left behind to build the one she’s living now. 

Christen asks about the girl Kelley kissed in the stands at the World Cup and watches in delight as Kelley blushes. 

“Have you seen Tobin?” Kelley asks. 

Christen is expecting the question, and still Tobin’s name takes her breath away. Just for a moment. She’s pretty sure she plays it off like it’s nothing as she shakes her head. 

“We haven’t really talked since she went to play in France,” Christen confesses. 

Actually, they haven’t REALLY talked since the night that they both pretend never happened, but Kelley doesn’t know about that and there’s certainly no reason to tell her now. 

“We have to call her!” Kelley declares, pulling out her phone. 

Christen’s heart begins to race just at the thought. She’s not ready. She’s not mentally prepared for contact with Tobin right now. 

Kelley starts to scroll through her phone, then puts it down on the table, eyes lit up in a way that Christen learned long ago means trouble. 

“What?” Christen demands warily. 

“We have to go SEE her!”

Christen shakes her head. “What?” Tobin is in Portland. They are in Salt Lake City. It’s not like seeing her just involves a drive down the road. 

“Yes! We’re gonna go see her!” 

And then Kelley is scrolling through her phone again and typing into it furiously, pausing to mutter every once in a while, saying things like, “Your middle name is Annemarie, right?” and “What IS your current phone number?” and then “God, I used to know your birthday. It’s around Christmas. I remember that!”

Christen watches her with a frown, answering the sporadic questions just to see where she’s going with this, and then Kelley is putting down her phone triumphantly and declaring, “We are booked on flights to Portland tomorrow. I cannot WAIT to see Tobin’s face.” 

Christen’s jaw falls open and she stares at Kelley in disbelief. “You can’t just buy me a ticket to Portland?” 

Kelley balks. “Why not?”

“Because!”

Kelley looks at her expectantly, clearly waiting for a more elaborate answer, but Christen doesn’t have one. Her mind is too busy reeling at the thought that she might get to see Tobin tomorrow. 

Tobin who she’s come to think of as her first real love. Tobin who she only ever had one stolen night with. Tobin who has never strayed too far from her thoughts even in the eight years it’s been since she’s seen her. 

She feels like she can barely breathe from the sudden weight on her chest. 

“Well too bad,” Kelley declares when it becomes clear that no further answer is forthcoming. “I can and I did. I will pick you up from your hotel tomorrow morning and we’ll grab some early lunch and head to the airport for an afternoon flight.”

Christen looks around the restaurant and wonders when exactly the ground started spinning. 

“This is going to be A-MAZ-ING!” Kelley enthuses. 

Christen remembers why so many times throughout her college career she had the thought, “Kelley O’Hara is going to be the death of me.”

  
  
  


Her leg bounces all the way to Portland. Kelley finally puts a hand on it as they’re in the Uber on the way to the coffeeshop where Kelley has arranged to meet Tobin, not telling her that Christen is with her. 

It’s a bad idea. Christen is sure that it’s a bad idea. 

It’s been years.

What if Tobin doesn’t even want to see her?

Christen drags her feet getting out of the car and she holds the door first for Kelley and then for someone else, too, so Tobin is sure to see Kelley first. 

Christen follows at a distance, eyes on the floor, unprepared still for what it will feel like to be face to face with Tobin after all these years. 

“Hey!” 

It’s been years since she’s heard her voice in anything but interviews on TV; even longer since she heard it in person; and yet, she would be able to place it anywhere. 

It hits her like a Kelley O’Hara slide tackle. Her legs go weak, all the air rushes out of her lungs, and it feels like the world has been pulled out from under her. It takes her a full few seconds to figure out which way is up. 

“Tobito, my buddy, I brought you a present!”

Christen can hear just how smug Kelley is feeling right now, and she hopes for her sake that this isn’t about to blow up in her face. 

She forces herself to look up, and then her breath is taken away all over again. 

Tobin looks more gorgeous than ever. Her hair is down around her face, silky and soft. She’s wearing thick-rimmed glasses that do nothing to hide the beauty of her brown eyes and actually manage to add an entire level of adorableness to her. Her lips are as full and kissable as ever. Her skin, what’s visible around a large black sweatshirt that makes Christen want to wrap herself up in it, is tanned and smooth from days spent outside on a soccer pitch. 

_ She’s stunning _ , Christen thinks, followed quickly by,  _ She’s here _ . 

Christen puts out a hand to steady herself against a nearby empty chair as her legs feel like they’ve turned to jelly and might give out under her weight at any second. 

Tobin hasn’t seen her yet. Her brows are furrowed and she scans Kelley’s person first and then the wrong way before her eyes find Christen. 

Christen’s heart is hammering loudly in her ears and her mouth has gone dry and she must look like a deer in headlights, but she does her best to attempt a natural smile as realization dawns on Tobin’s face. 

Tobin’s eyes go wide and her body straightens, and for a moment she does nothing but stare and Christen is sure that they’ve made a huge mistake surprising her like that.

And then the smile starts at the corners of Tobin’s mouth, growing wider and wider until she’s radiantly beaming at Christen and she’s nudging Kelley out of the way, her eyes trailing down then back up to take all of Christen in like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. 

“No way,” Tobin says, an extra layer of husk in her voice that Christen wills her body not to respond to. “No frickin’ way! Christen?!?”

Tobin’s embrace is warm and tight and Christen can’t help but sink into it. 

She smells different, Christen thinks, realizing how stupid it is to expect that she wouldn’t. She smells like clean laundry and a vaguely floral shampoo, but, she realizes as she buries her face into Tobin’s shoulder and holds on a little tighter, there’s something familiar there too, something uniquely Tobin that hasn’t changed. 

Tobin pushes back, her hands on Christen’s arms and looks at her again, emotions flitting across her face too fast for Christen to read them, and then she shakes her head and pulls Christen back in and they’re hugging again. 

It feels like ages and also somehow no time at all when they break apart. 

“Wow,” Tobin breathes out close enough that Christen can smell the coffee on her breath. “Christen Press.”

There’s a pause, a hesitation, like she’s keeping herself from saying more, and then she’s shaking her head again and biting her lip through her smile and saying, “What a blast from the past.”

“I hope you don’t mind the surprise,” Christen says, unable to shake the uncertainty from her mind. 

“This is like, the best surprise. Kelley’s surprises are usually not as enjoyable.”

“Hey!” Kelley protests. 

“I remember that being the case,” Christen agrees with a laugh. 

“HEEEY!” Kelley crosses her arms and pouts out her lip. 

“Here, let me get you guys some coffee. Come sit down. I’ll be right back,” Tobin invites. She starts to walk away then turns back, a frown on her face. “Um, what do you want? What would you like? How do you take your coffee?”

It’s an acknowledgment of the time between, of how much they don’t know about each other now. Something as simple as her coffee order is knowledge that Tobin no longer possesses. 

Christen’s surprised at how deep that cuts. 

“Um, I’ll have a latte with one sugar, please.”

Tobin nods. “Anything to eat?” 

Christen shakes her head. 

Tobin turns to Kelley. “The usual?” 

“You know it,” Kelley replies, settling happily into a comfy chair around the low table that Tobin had been sitting at when they arrived. 

It’s a tiny exchange. It’s not even worth paying attention to, really, but to Christen it only serves to highlight the difference in their relationships. 

Christen looks uncertainly at the remaining seating options. There’s one of those wood frame chairs that’s almost like a recliner and sort of bounces when you lean back in it, but has a tendency to tip forward if you sit near the front. Then there’s the loveseat. Tobin’s bag is on the floor beside it. It’s clearly where she was sitting. There’s plenty of space for Christen to sit, too, if she wants to. 

“If you don’t sit on the couch, I will tip you over in that chair,” Kelley says. 

Christen gives her a surprised look and Kelley rolls her eyes. 

“Did you SEE her face, Chris? She’s happy to see you. Really fucking happy. Just sit. Stop overthinking.”

It’s amazing how Kelley can still read her after all this time, how she knows her well enough (or knew her well enough, anyway) to know that she’s struggling. It makes Christen wonder for a fleeting second what might have been different if she’d found the strength to continue cheering for her friends while she struggled to put soccer behind her. 

Kelley gives her a pointed look, and Christen relents, taking a seat very clearly on one side of the love seat, almost hugging the arm of it to make sure there’s plenty of room for Tobin on the other side. 

“She doesn’t bite,” Kelley says. “Unless you’re into that kind of thing,” she adds with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. 

Christen laughs and shakes her head and flips Kelley off. Christen tries not to think about how Tobin’s teeth had felt on her shoulder as her body shuddered and she clenched around Christen’s fingers. 

Tobin is back quickly and she takes a seat easily next to Christen, which makes Christen think that she really had been overthinking things. 

Tobin angles her body so she can look at Christen as they talk, awe still written across her face as she hands over Christen’s coffee. “God, I still can’t believe you’re here! It’s been so long!”

“Eight years,” Christen confirms. 

“Just over, really,” Tobin counters, and Christen nods, forcing her brain not to think about the last night they spent together. “So tell me everything! How are you? How have you been? What have you been up to? Where do you live? What’re you doing in Portland? How long are you staying?” 

Christen has to laugh as the questions flow out of Tobin. “Have you become more talkative since I’ve known you, or is this just for me?”

“It’s just for you,” Kelley interjects and Christen can see a hint of a blush on Tobin’s cheeks as she laughs. 

“We have a lot to catch up on,” Tobin points out. 

“We do,” Christen agrees, feeling a tightness in her chest. “Like World Cups and Olympics and NWSL Championships and France,” Christen points out. 

Tobin cocks her head to the side and studies her for a second. “You’ve followed my career?”

It’s Christen’s turn to blush. “Of course. You and Kel. I mean, not the closest, but I’ve tried to recently at least.” 

Tobin bites her lip for a moment, then breaks out into a wide grin. “Cool,” she says. 

Kelley downs her coffee and stands. “Well, I heard a good half of Christen’s stories yesterday, so I’m gonna go check into the hotel and meet you ladies after.”

“Wait, what?” Christen asks in confusion. She can see the way Kelley isn’t closing her mouth all the way like her coffee was still too hot to properly drink, and this was definitely not what they’d talked about on the flight here. 

“Yeah. I’ll give you two a chance to catch up, and then I’ll meet up with you in a bit and you can fill me in on whatever I missed,” Kelley says, stretching and then not so surreptitiously fanning at her mouth. 

“Coffee a little hot there, Kel?” Tobin asks knowingly, a hint of amusement in her voice. 

Kelley shakes her head. “No. I’m fine. I’m just gonna go chug some ice water before I head out though.” 

Kelley waves goodbye and wanders off, lugging both her and Christen’s bags. 

Christen watches her go then laughs and shakes her head. To some degree, Kelley hasn’t changed. She’s still the Kelley that Christen loved in college, the one who was somewhere between a big sister and a best friend. She’s also, Christen’s almost relieved to see, a bit of an idiot. 

“She’s such a weirdo,” Tobin comments with a chuckle. 

“God, isn’t she?” Christen agrees, and this time the laugh is shared between them. 

Silence settles between them as they sip their drinks, not uncomfortable, just charged with an energy that Christen doesn’t want to put a name to. 

“It’s really good to see you, Chris,” Tobin says with so much sincerity that Christen feels the tension in her chest coil a little bit tighter. The use of the familiar nickname doesn’t help, curling through her with a warmth that she hasn’t felt for years. 

“Yeah. You too.” 

There’s a moment where all they do is look at each other and Christen thinks that she could melt into the brown of Tobin’s eyes if she let herself, but then Tobin’s shaking her head and looking down at her drink and asking, “So about all my questions…” and Christen laughs and obliges. 

  
  
  


“And this kid, this mouthy fourteen-year-old, who thinks he’s hot shit, he just gets schooled so hard. Kiona dribbled circles around him, ‘megging him, letting him think he’d have a chance to steal the ball and then going right through his legs, and at the end he’d barely gotten a touch in, meanwhile Kiona had two goals and three assists. He was too embarrassed to even talk after the game.”

Tobin’s leaning in closer and grinning and Christen can feel the warmth where Tobin’s knees are pressed against hers and it’s more than a little distracting, but she loves this story, so she keeps telling it. 

“But get this. He comes back the next day, all sheepishly tugging at his hoodie and shuffling his feet, and he doesn’t come up to me, he doesn’t go to Louise, he walks right up to Kiona, looks her in the eyes and says, ‘You’ve got mad skills, shortie. Think you could teach me?’”

Tobin’s mouth drops open. “Wow. That’s ballsy!” 

Christen nods. 

“What’d Kiona say?”

Christen laughs. “She said, ‘Don’t call me shortie, Rodney,’ and then she agreed to teach him.” 

“What a kid.”

Christen nods again, smiling fondly. 

“And she’s at Stanford now?”

“Yep! She’s a starter this year. Actually, she was starting by the end of last season. I think…” Christen hesitates, wondering when dreaming on behalf of someone else became so easy before she continues, ”I think she might have what it takes to go all the way, to get the call up.”

Tobin looks thoughtful for a second. “You know the baby of our team is a Stanny grad, too. I bet she knows people who still play there. I’ll tell her to put out feelers.” 

Christen smiles and puts her hand on Tobin’s where it sits on her knee. It’s too much contact and not enough all at once, but Christen forces herself to leave it there long enough to give Tobin’s hand an appreciative squeeze as she says, “Thanks. That would be really great.” 

Her hand lingers, just for a moment, but it’s enough to send heat flooding through her. She hadn’t anticipated Tobin still having such a strong effect on her after all these years. It shouldn’t be possible really. 

Tobin glances around when Christen pulls her hand back, and her eyes go wide. “Shit. We’ve been here for almost three hours. Where the hell is Kelley?”

Christen balks. Has it really been that long? It doesn’t feel like it at all. She checks her phone and sees a text from Kelley waiting for her. 

“Kel’s at the hotel waiting for me, apparently. Or...us? Her wording is ambiguous. She says she wants dinner.” 

Tobin laughs. “She does have a tendency to think with her stomach.”

“I guess I should probably go get her.” Christen is reluctant to leave. It’s not like it’s goodbye. It’s really not this time. It’s more like “a see you later”, or a “see you tomorrow”. She’s gone eight years without Tobin in her life and now she feels loathe to go a few hours? She’s being ridiculous and she knows it. Still, she can’t force herself to stand up. 

Maybe she’s not the only one feeling the pull to spend more time together, because Tobin does manage to stand, but it’s as she’s saying, “I’ll drive you. I’ll take you guys out. You made the trip. It’s the least I can do.”

Christen stands and shakes her head. “No. You paid for coffee. It’s my turn.”

“Don’t be silly. You flew across the country to visit.” 

“To be fair, I only paid for the flight to Utah. Kelley paid for my flight here. She won’t let me pay her back. You don’t happen to know her venmo, do you?”

Tobin laughs. “If she says you’re not paying her back, you know she won’t let you get away with that, right?” 

Christen sighs and nods. “Yeah. I know.”

“Okay, so come on. We can argue about who’s paying on the way to the hotel.”

Tobin holds out a hand and Christen looks at it for a moment. It doesn’t mean anything to take it, and yet it feels like maybe it means everything. 

She slides her hand into Tobin’s and holds on firmly. 

  
  


Dinner comes with a side of memories that Christen had almost forgotten; pranks she’d participated in, surf accidents she’d stitched up, practices they’d shared, and names she hasn’t heard in the better part of a decade. Their shared summer playing for Pali Blues is lingered on as a topic the longest. It took her years to think of it without a stab of pain, but now it ranks as one of the best summers of her life. 

At the end of it, Tobin drops them both back at the hotel with a promise from them that they’ll stop by practice the next day. For Kelley it means seeing old friends, but for Christen it means meeting new ones. 

Kelley gets a quick hug through the window and Christen starts to go in for the same, but then Tobin is opening her door and stepping out to wrap her arms fully around Christen. 

There’s a moment where Christen just breathes her in deeply. She’s adjusting to this new Tobin, the new smell settling in as familiar already. She doesn’t really want to let go, but knows that she can’t linger. She’s here to visit. She’s here to reconnect. She’s not here to rekindle something that never really had the chance to flame in the first place. 

And then Tobin is stepping back and Kelley is complaining that she didn’t get a proper hug and she and Kelley are heading into the hotel, arm in arm, as Tobin calls out, “Well, maybe if I didn’t see YOU for eight years.”

Kelley throws her head back and laughs. 

  
  


“It’s funny how time changes things,” Christen murmurs, staring up at the textured, eggshell ceiling of the hotel room that glows an almost otherworldly blue in the limited moonlight sneaking in past the blackout curtains. 

“Like your willingness to visit?” Kelley suggests. 

It catches her off-guard. She’s not sure why she had assumed that Kelley hadn’t noticed. Kelley always read her so very well. It makes her feel a little guilty, though. “Yeah,” she confesses. It’s easier to be honest in the darkness of a hotel room in the middle of the night than looking right at her in the harsh light of day. “Sorry.”

“We understood,” Kelley says. 

It’s more forgiving than Christen expects. It’s more forgiving than she was to herself for a long time. 

“We never thought you should have walked away, but your life...It seems like you’re in a good place.”

“I am,” Christen confirms. “Mostly I am.”

“Something missing?” There’s a hint of mischief in Kelley’s voice. Easily detectable. Christen doesn’t have to look at her to see the smirk on her face. 

“No. Just...maybe I’m ready for something new.”

“Or something old.”

Christen throws one of the pillows off her bed in Kelley’s direction and is rewarded by a thump and a protest of “Hey!”, the seriousness of which is undermined by Kelley’s laughter. 

“I’m just saying. I know you had a thing for her back in the day.”

“It was a crush almost a decade ago, Kelley!” It’s a lie. It was so much more than that. Kelley doesn’t need to know that, though. Kelley with her tendency to meddle. There’s a reason they said they wouldn’t tell her about that night. 

“Just a crush, huh? Because I remember oh-so-many heart eyes the summer we played for Pali Blues.” 

“Wow, so old age is already affecting your memory, huh? Have you talked to your doctor about that, Kel? Could be serious.” 

It’s Kelley’s turn to hurl a pillow across the room and Christen’s turn to giggle. 

Next thing she knows Kelley is climbing into bed with her, nudging her over. 

“Kelley!” Christen protests, but she scoots over just the same. 

“I saw you at coffee and at dinner. I rode on the plane with you all the way here. You can’t tell me you-”

Christen puts a hand over Kelley’s mouth. She doesn’t want to hear the end of Kelley’s sentence. “Kel, I’m not here for that. I’m just - It had been too long since I’d seen you guys and I thought it was time to remedy that.”

Kelley licks her hand, and Christen snatches it away, wiping it on the blanket as she makes a face. “Gross,” she whines. 

“It was past time. If I had your number I’d have forced it on you sooner. You really know how to drop off the map.”

“It wasn’t intentional,” Christen replies defensively. 

Even in the dark of the room, Christen can see the skeptical look that Kelley is giving her. 

“Not completely. I meant to keep in touch.”

Kelley sighs. “I missed you, Turtle.” 

Christen groans. “I could have lived the rest of my life without hearing that nickname again.”

Kelley laughs. “I know. That’s why I had to. Can’t let you forget.”

Christen rolls her eyes. “Jerk.” She says it affectionately and Kelley grins, but then turns serious.

“Just...Don’t pull a disappearing act like that again, okay?”

Christen swallows down the sudden lump in her throat and nods. “Okay.”

“Good. Because you’re way too fun to annoy,” Kelley declares, rolling over and pulling most of the covers with her. 

“KELLEY!”

  
  
  


Everyone is so nice. That’s Christen’s overwhelming thought upon meeting the Thorns. Every last one of them from the players to the coaches to the rest of the staff. Not a single person suggests that she shouldn’t be at practice or gives her a funny look. There seems to be a general consensus of “any friend of Tobin’s is a friend of ours”, and it doesn’t take long for Christen to feel surprisingly at home at Providence Park. 

Christen recognizes some of them from the national team games she’s watched, but she isn’t prepared for the way that Emily Sonnett, or Sonny as she insists on being called, is just like a younger version of Kelley. Joking around with her is almost like getting a glimpse into what Kelley was probably like at that age and it only adds to Christen’s wishing that she had tried a little harder to keep in touch over the years. 

Seeing Tobin with a ball up close after all these years is stunningly impressive (and more than a little bit of a turn on, if she’s being honest with herself). She was always so incredibly skilled, always ready with a ball at her feet, but age and practice have only made her touches cleaner, her tricks sharper, and given her a confidence on the field that is overwhelming. 

Christen can barely take her eyes off of her. 

It’s amazing how she goes from laughing and joking, juggling the ball around one second, to intensely focused the next. 

“Hey, Tobs!” Kelley calls out near the end of practice, and Christen knows enough to be suddenly anxious. 

“Kelley!” she says in a warning voice, but Kelley ignores her. Of course she does. 

Tobin looks up at them questioningly. 

“Did she tell you she still plays?” Kelley calls out. 

Christen sinks down lower in her seat and mutters, “I hate you, Kel.” 

“She neglected to mention that!” Tobin calls back with a gleam in her eye. 

Kelley reaches over and attempts to ruffle Christen’s hair, but Christen bats her away. “You love me.” 

“Debatable,” Christen mumbles as Tobin jogs over. 

“What do you say? You two want to show them some of that old Stanford magic that still wasn’t enough to take us down in the College Cup?” 

“Oh, that’s some big talk given that we’ve won the cup more recently than you have,” Kelley retorts. 

“Well come show me up, then,” Tobin challenges. 

“I don’t have boots,” Christen protests. 

“I’m sure we can find a pair that fits you,” Kelley dismisses her concern. 

“Or shin guards. Or the right socks. Or the right clothes,” Christen attempts, fully aware that she’s going to lose this argument, but trying anyway. 

“You’re not playing an actual game, Chris. Just show them what you’ve got,” Kelley urges, pulling on cleats of her own that Christen didn’t even realize she brought. 

“What size?” Tobin asks. 

“What?”

“Cleat. What size cleat?” 

Christen answers and Tobin dashes off to her teammates. Christen watches as one of them runs off towards the locker rooms and then reappears a few minutes later holding a pair of cleats. 

“I can’t,” she murmurs, but the brunette with the name Menges across her back who Christen is pretty sure is one of the Emilys on the team insists. 

“Come on, Chris. Let’s see what you can still do,” Tobin coaxes. 

The use of the nickname and the cocky look on Tobin’s face burn through Christen like fire. 

“I don’t even get to stretch first?” she asks, doing a few lunges and then standing on one leg as she stretches out her hamstrings for a few seconds each. “That hardly seems fair. I mean, you just had an entire practice.”

“Exactly. So my body is already tired. I’m already at a disadvantage,” Tobin says with a smirk. 

“Says the pro soccer player to her not pro friend,” Christen counters, arching her back to stretch it out some. 

“Could’ve been pro,” Tobin shoots back. 

“A lifetime ago, maybe,” Christen concedes. “Not now, though.” She does a few high jumps, then a few high knees in place, then pounds the ground as fast as she can. She swings her arms a bit at her sides, then steps onto the field. 

Her heart is pounding, but she tells herself it’s just like any other time. She tells herself that it’s just like stepping on the field at home. There’s no pressure. She’s not trying out for the team. There’s nothing at stake if she and Kelley win or lose. It’s just fun, and fun is why she plays these days. 

Tobin recruits Sonny to her team, just to make things even. 

“A forward and a defender,” she points out. 

“Two pros versus one and a rec league player,” Christen counters. “Not very even.”

“Trying to get me to take it easy on you, Pressy?” Tobin asks, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on her lips that makes Christen want to kiss it right off. 

“Nah. I love a challenge.” 

  
  


Unsurprisingly, Christen and Kelley lose. It wasn’t really a fair game to begin with. It isn’t as big of a loss as Christen had anticipated, though. 

By the end of the twenty minutes, Christen is starting to feel that on field connection with Kelley she once shared, and they score two late goals. Christen had managed to sink one early, too, when Kelley had slide-tackled Tobin, and Christen had used a burst of speed to get the ball. 

The final score ends up 5-3, but Christen feels proud of her efforts despite the end result. She had some good plays and the familiarity of playing off of Kelley, even after all this time, takes her right back to the glory days. 

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that most of the Thorns line up behind her and Kelley, cheering for them over their own teammates. 

“You’ve got some insane speed, Press!” Sonny compliments her, panting as she shakes Christen’s hand. 

“And you’ve got quite the tackle,” Christen replies. 

Sonny grins and again Christen sees a flash of Kelley in her. 

“Pressy’s still got it!” Kelley declares, slapping her on the back a touch too hard, forcing Christen to take a small step forward with a slight, “Oof,” escaping her lips. 

“Thanks, Kel,” she replies, slipping her arm around Kelley’s waist as Kelley wraps her arm around Christen’s shoulders. It feels almost like it used to, way back when, except there’s no number on her back and Tobin’s wearing the wrong colors as she comes to a stop in front of them with a massive grin and says, “Yeah, she does!” 

When Tobin pulls both of them into a hug, Christen tells herself that Tobin doesn’t mean anything more by her words. It’s a simple agreement to a simple statement. It’s about the game only. 

She tells herself she doesn’t hold on a second longer than she might have if it was anyone else. 

(She tells herself not to fall, but she can already feel the ground rushing up to meet her.)

  
  
  


They don’t spend time alone. Christen isn’t sure if it’s coincidence or by design, but she doesn’t complain. First it’s Kelley who’s always there, but when she heads back to Utah after a few days, Sonny or Lindsey make regular appearances at their after practice hang outs and AD and her fiancée take them out to dinner and Christine invites them for coffee. 

Having someone else constantly present as a buffer is helpful. It keeps her grounded in reality. It helps her resist temptation. Temptation to reach out and brush her pinkie against Tobin’s as they sit side by side. Temptation to linger in a hug goodbye for the night. Temptation to lean in closer and closer as Tobin speaks. 

(Temptation to pull her closer and never let go.)

It doesn’t help with the falling. 

Tobin’s smile feels like it grows more radiant as the days pass. Everytime Tobin speaks, her voice soft with a hint of husk, Christen feels herself swoon a little more. Christen has to stop going to watch practices because seeing Tobin’s skill with a ball makes her feel hot all over and there’s only so many times she can get herself off at the thought of her in the dark of a hotel room at night before it starts to feel like she has a problem that distance might not solve. 

Tobin’s got a home game coming up on Sunday and Christen is due back at work on Monday and Christen can’t bring herself to book the flight home. Not yet. She should really watch her play a game. She’s come all this way. All the way across the country. 

She calls to check in, guilt gnawing at the edge of her consciousness. She has a job to do. A job she really likes. She has a team of people who answer to her. How long can she really stay gone before it’s irresponsible of her? How long before she’s letting people down? 

Except her team is doing well. Her boss urges her to extend her vacation. She knows how long it’s been since Christen has taken anything more than a few days to visit her family. Christen promises to check in by phone every other day and keep up with e-mails. Gina tells her not to stress, but that she would like to meet with her when she comes back. Nothing bad, she assures her as Christen’s heart begins to hammer in her chest. Just a possible opportunity. 

Christen calls Louise, too, and Louise practically yells at her to stop worrying about the kids while she’s supposed to be on vacation. “Things here are running like a well-oiled machine, Chrissy. You enjoy your trip. Ain’t nothing happening here that I can’t handle.” Christen leaves the conversation laughing, and feeling a little reassured. 

She catches Tobin watching her from across the room where she’s talking to Lindsey. 

She feels herself fall just a little bit further. 

  
  


“I have the space. It’s silly for you to keep paying for a hotel,” Tobin argues. 

Christen doesn’t want to say, “It feels like a bad idea.” She doesn’t want to admit, “It feels dangerous.” She doesn’t want to let Tobin know, “I’m already in too deep and this will only make it harder to leave.” 

Instead she finds herself saying, “If you’re sure. I don’t want to be an imposition.” 

“You could never be an imposition,” Tobin tells her with an easy smile. 

Christen checks out of her hotel Friday morning. Friday afternoon Kelley gets hurt at practice. She’s going to be out for a while. 

Saturday morning Kelley flies back to Portland and crashes with Christen in Tobin’s spare room. 

Christen breathes out a sigh of relief when Kelley walks through Tobin’s front door. 

  
  


They cheer for the Thorns until they’re both hoarse. The team is on fire and Christen is glad that she’s not playing for the Red Stars tonight. 

Sonny is an animal on the back line, earning herself a yellow in the second half that Christen protests from the stands even though she knows it’s well-earned. Lindsey is a brick wall with a magic head that puts them up by one early in the first half - Sam Kerr and Yuki Nagasato have trouble getting a ball past her in midfield. 

Christine Sinclair is 100% as good as a Christen would expect a legend like her to be, and when Morgan Brian sneaks one past AD forty minutes into the game, it’s Sinclair with a breakaway to pull the Thorns ahead by one again before the half. 

And then there’s Tobin. As fierce and talented as Tobin has been at practice, it’s somehow doubled for the game. She attacks with an intensity that has Christen feeling breathless and lightheaded and flushed too hot all at once. She nutmegs a defender on her third touch of the ball. She keeps balls in that Christen is convinced anyone else would have let go out. Her passes connect, apparently without her having to look to see where she’s passing to. 

And then when Tobin scores in the 85th minute to secure the Thorns the win, she throws her arms up in the air, then points right to where she and Kelley are sitting in the stands, and Christen feels like Tobin scored just for her. 

  
  


They don’t talk about it. Two weeks together and not once do either of them even hint at the night they spent together. Not once do they come close to addressing the feelings that led them to it. 

There are moments, always fleeting, where Christen thinks maybe…

Maybe it would be okay to say something. Maybe if they talk about the past she’ll be able to move past the present. Maybe if they addressed old feelings she could push away the new ones. 

There are moments where Christen almost gets caught up; where Tobin is smiling at her in that certain way, where she’s leaning in close enough that she swears she could count Tobin’s eyelashes if she tried, where all it would take is a little bravery on her part and they could be -

She shakes it off. Every time. She’s leaving. She’s leaving so soon. She’s going back to her real life. She’s going back to the kids at the center and her rec league teammates and her job. She’s going back across the country and away from this vacation life. 

She’s not going to walk away completely. She doesn’t think she could if she wanted to this time (and she doesn’t). Kelley and Tobin wouldn’t let her. 

Facetime calls and regular texts aren’t the same, though, and long distance friendship is a completely different (and more manageable) animal than a long distance relationship. 

Still, as the day of her flight home approaches, Christen feels the pressure building inside her. It’s building in her chest, making her breathing shallow and building in her mind, making her thoughts swirl and it’s not until the day before she’s leaving and Tobin takes her hand and says, “I want to take you somewhere,” that she feels the storm raging inside her start to calm. 

  
  


They end up partway up a mountain, looking down into the valley overlooking Portland. The sun is just setting enough so that golden light spills over the land, casting long shadows. Tobin sits beside her, close enough to touch, but not touching, staring out over the city she calls home. Her eyes look almost amber in the golden hour, her skin glowing in an attractive kind of way, and Christen feels her heart swell. She knows Tobin brought her for the views, but all Christen wants to look at is the woman beside her. 

Tobin ducks her head and bites her lip and says, “Chris,” in an almost reverential way that makes emotion stick, thick and uncomfortable, in Christen’s throat. 

She does her best to swallow it down, and rubs at her chest with her fist as if that will take the tightness she feels away. 

“Yeah?” she finally responds, and her voice is little more than a croak. 

“If you keep looking at me like that-” Tobin starts, but she doesn’t finish. She shakes her head instead and turns to look fully at Christen. “I think maybe we should talk.”

Christen nods. They should. She doesn’t want to, but it’s the mature, adult thing to do and they’re very much running out of time. 

“When you- When you left before- When you left soccer -”

Tobin doesn’t have to say, “when you left me” for Christen to hear it anyway. 

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” Christen admits. 

Something flashes across Tobin’s face, and Christen wants to say it’s hope, but it’s gone too fast for her to tell for sure. 

Christen finally turns her gaze to the view, the sun traveling lower now, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink and purple. She takes a deep breath and tells herself it’s time to be brave, if only for a moment, so that when she leaves she can at the very least feel like she’s said her piece. 

“It was hard to leave soccer. It was hard to walk away from my dream.”

She can see Tobin watching her out of the corner of her eyes, nodding at what she’s saying. 

“It was harder to walk away from you,” Christen admits, so softly that at first she’s not sure that Tobin has heard her, but then Tobin is shifting closer and threading her fingers through Christen’s where her hand rests on the ground between them. 

“Why?” Tobin croaks, and Christen can hear the nerves there, the uncertainty, the  _ need _ to know that Christen had felt a certain way. 

Now that she’s started telling her, the truth falls out a little easier. “Because I was in love with you.”

It’s a truth that took her years to admit to herself, but a truth nonetheless, and Tobin inhales sharply as it hits her, but she keeps her hand, warm in the setting sun, where it is, holding Christen’s. 

“I was in love with you, but I couldn’t stay in your life and not stay with soccer, so I pushed you away and I pushed Kelley away and I focused on other things and other people until it stopped feeling like my world was imploding and started to feel like maybe it was expanding again.” 

Silence settles between them as the oranges start to fade from the sky and the purples turn darker, and Tobin’s fingers stroke against her hand gently until with a hoarse voice Tobin asks, “And what about now?”

Now is a subject that Christen’s not sure she’s ready to speak truth to, so she starts with excuses instead. “I fly home tomorrow. I have to get back to work. I have to get back to the kids. And you have soccer. You have camps coming up and the Olympics next summer and a new coach coming in to impress and I have meetings and marketing campaigns and coaching and league games.”

Tobin’s not going to let her get out of this so easily, though. “But how do you feel, Chris?” 

There’s an urgency to her tone, but Christen can’t. She just can’t. So she cracks a joke. 

“Tobin Heath, talking about feelings? Who’d have thought?” She says it with a cheeky grin and a glance in Tobin’s direction, but Tobin is looking back at her with an intensity she didn’t expect and it snatches all of the breath from her lungs.

Tobin lifts her hand from Christen’s and brings the back of her fingers to Christen’s cheek, stroking it in a touch that’s barely there before she breathes, “You’re the one that got away, Chris. You always will be.” 

The confession shakes Christen to her core and all of the falling she’s been trying not to do slams her into the ground. She hears herself say, “I could fall back in love with you in a heartbeat, Tobs, but that’s not the way life worked out for us,” before she’s even realized how true the words are, but a moment later it doesn’t matter because Tobin’s lips are on hers, and her hand is warm where it’s cupping her face, and Christen can’t think about anything but this exact moment. 

The kiss is needy and demanding, yet surprisingly tender, and Christen sinks into it. She gives in and gives herself over because she has no choice, because Tobin is her one who got away too, because kissing Tobin is the dream that she could never really let go of. 

(She gives in because maybe it’s already too late. Maybe she’s already fallen back in love. Maybe she was always meant to.)

When they break apart, they’re both breathless, and Christen can feel the hot pants of Tobin’s breath as Tobin leans her forehead against hers. For a minute they just stay there, sharing the same air, living in a temporary bubble of their own making where they are the only two that exist. 

And then Tobin’s letting everything out with a chuckle and leaning away and Christen follows suit and shakes her head. She swallows down the words that threaten to bubble out and instead says, “Well, you haven’t lost your touch.”

Tobin laughs again. “You neither.”

The purples are turning into darker hues of blue and the pinks have all but vanished from the sky, only a few lingering by the horizon. 

“Don’t disappear this time, Chris,” Tobin says. “I can’t lose you as a friend again.”

It feels like an almost truth, but Christen takes it at face value because she doesn’t want to know the full truth. 

When she promises to stay in touch this time, she knows it’s not a lie. 

  
  


The meeting when she gets back to work makes her heart race and her stomach pound with butterflies and it gives Christen a hint of something she almost dares not think. It gives her a spark of hope. 

It’s not a done deal, though. There are logistics to work out, and there’s planning. So very much planning. But when she says, “Portland,” there are eager nods around the table. 

LA makes more sense in some ways, but the price tag of California makes Portland more feasible, and the more Christen looks into it, the more she thinks it’s the right choice for the right reasons instead of her selfish ones. 

If it happens, though, it will mean a lot of work. She won’t have any free time at all apart from a few days around the holidays, and she’s already committed to go home to LA and see her family for those. 

Maybe that’s why she doesn’t breathe a word of it to Kelley during their weekly facetime chats. Maybe that’s why she carefully omits it from any mention of work in her almost daily texts to Tobin. 

(Maybe it’s that there’s still the possibility that it will all fall through, and she doesn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up but her own.)

(Maybe she’s just scared.)

  
  


The Royals don’t make it to the playoffs and the Thorns don’t win the shield or the championship, but Christen watches all their games anyway without a hint of regret or a trace of wondering what might have been. 

She cheers loudly and texts Kelley through the games that she’s still not back from injury to be able to play in.

She watches the rest of the Victory Tour, too, setting up the projector at the community center and telling the kids stories about nutmegging Sonny and scoring against Tobin on her trip to Portland that has them all in awe. 

Christen isn’t surprised, when she sees Tobin’s name on the list of who gets called up to camp for the new head coach. She’s not surprised to see Kelley’s name on the injured list, either, but she knows Kelley will work her way back. Neither of them is done yet and she can’t wait to see what they have to show the new coach. 

  
  


Christen IS surprised when Kelley calls her from camp on the second day and yells at her. 

“WHAT did you do to Tobin?” Kelley demands. 

Christen frowns and sets down her glass of wine and pushes aside the paperwork she’d brought home. “What do you mean what did I do to Tobin? I didn’t do anything to Tobin.” 

“I was willing to believe that when she was mopey at the Victory Tour. We were tired, the NWSL season wasn’t exactly going the way either of us wanted to, we felt so much pressure to perform, to send Jill off on a high note. It was a lot. BUT CHRISTEN SHE IS STILL MOPEY! I WANT MY SMILEY TOBY BACK! So you are going to tell me what’s going on and you’re going to tell me NOW and then we are going to FIX it! Understood?” 

Christen hesitates. She hadn’t known that Tobin was mopey. Tobin had never let on. Kelley wouldn’t be calling about this if it wasn’t important, though, and Christen...Well, maybe it’s finally time to tell SOMEONE. 

“Kel, don’t be mad -”

“That is never a good way to start a sentence,” Kelley interrupts. 

“Do you want to know or not, Kel?” Christen demands, and Kelley falls silent. 

“Do you remember how Tobin and I went out for like a goodbye dinner after I told you guys that I wasn’t going to play soccer anymore?”

“Yeeees,” Kelley replies in a tone of voice that says that she doesn’t see the relevance of this question to Tobin’s current mental state. 

Christen takes a deep breath and then just blurts it all out. She tells her all about sleeping with Tobin. She tells her about being in love with Tobin. She tells her about how hard it was to keep contact to a minimum. She tells her about how even through dating other people and moving different places and building a life for herself Tobin was always there, always lingering in the back of her mind. 

She tells her how every emotion that she’d pushed away for years came flooding back the moment she laid eyes on Tobin again. She tells her about the conversations they didn’t have and then the conversation they did. She tells her about goodbye kisses and promises to keep in touch. 

(She doesn’t tell her about the potential. She doesn’t tell her how they’ve signed a long term lease on an office building in downtown Portland. She doesn’t tell her about being tapped to head the West Coast expansion. She still has far too much to work out first.)

There’s silence on the other end of the phone for a long moment, and Christen starts to wonder if maybe the call got dropped somewhere in the middle of everything she said. She’s about to pull it away from her ear and check when she hears Kelley breathe out slowly. 

“So you two idiots have known you’re in love with each other ALL this time and NEITHER OF YOU EVER THOUGHT TO TELL ME???”

Christen laughs. Of course Kelley would take all of these revelations and focus on the part of it that was about her. Christen knows she’s not really that selfish, but she knows that Kelley knows it’s a great way to break the tension. She’s always been good at making people laugh. 

“First of all, it’s not like we were in love the whole time, and second it’s not- She’s never actually said it.”

“She TOLD you you’re the one that got away, Chris. What exactly did you think that meant?”

It’s a valid point, so Christen concedes it, but it still doesn’t mean - She’s still not sure that it- 

“It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re at camp in Columbus and I’m in Baltimore. I’ll talk to her. I’ll make sure she has her head in the game. She’s got a new coach to impress anyway.”

“He’s a good guy. We’re gonna make him go grey, but I like him,” Kelley says. 

Christen laughs. “You could make any coach go grey, Kel.”

“Hey!” Kelley protests. 

There’s a pause, and then Kelley adds, “Christen you could have told me.”

Christen nods even though Kelley can’t see her. “I know, but you would’ve meddled. You wouldn’t have let me walk away and I needed to.”

She can practically hear Kelley splutter in protest, but then Kelley sighs and says, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” 

“I’m DEFINITELY right. It’s why Tobin and I agreed never to tell you,” Christen replies with a grin. 

“YOU WHAT??!?”

Christen laughs into the phone and says, “Sorry, I’ve gotta go call Tobin apparently. Love you, Kel!” She hangs up before Kelley has a chance to respond, laughing as she does so. 

She doesn’t actually call Tobin, but she does text. It’s not a lot, but hopefully it will be enough. 

_ Maybe we can schedule a visit for the new year? _

It’s a branch, a hand being held out, an offering of hope. She hopes it is, anyway, because apparently Tobin needs a little of it, too. 

When Tobin texts back, “I’d like that”, she thinks she’s made the right decision. 

  
  


Christen has always liked family time. It’s been scarce in recent years, work and the center keeping her busy at home, schedules being complicated to coordinate with her sisters. She gets just over a full week this time, though. She flies away from Baltimore on the 23rd of December and she’s not due in Portland until the 3rd of January. She checks in one last time with Louise at the center before she flies out. Kiona is home from college, too, having completed her sophomore season poised to break some of the school records that Christen herself holds. Christen couldn’t be more proud. 

Preparations are busy for the annual holiday potluck, but when Christen tries to help, Louise and Kiona shoo her away. 

“You have a plane to catch, Chrissy. You’re not missing it on our account,” Louise says.

Kiona hugs her tight and reminds her of her promise to make it to at least one of her games next season since they’ll actually be on the same coast, before turning to yell at Rodney about place settings. 

Christen laughs. “Take it easy on him. He’s doing a good job coaching the littles since you left.” 

“I know,” Kiona replies with a mischievous grin. “But it’s just so fun to make him jump to attention sometimes.” 

Christen shakes her head and smiles and hugs her again, realizing that she’s had family time in a different way here in this space. 

  
  
  


Her parents ask her a million and one questions about the new position and the new office. They’re excited that she’ll finally be back in the same time zone, a short flight away instead of all the way across the country. It makes Christen feel simultaneously a little guilty and absolutely elated. 

Her sisters ask her a million and one questions about her trip to Portland and, more specifically, Tobin Heath. She answers some of them and dodges the rest. 

Kelley calls her on Christmas morning while she eats a candy cane that she refuses to take out of her mouth to talk properly. 

Tobin calls her Christmas night and Christen falls asleep with the phone pressed to her ear, and Tobin’s wish of “Sweet dreams, Chris,” running through her mind. 

  
  


The New Year dawns with a feeling of promise and Christen sets to work establishing herself in another new city that somehow already feels like home. 

There’s more work involved than she’d imagined in the expansion, but it feels good, it feels important. 

There’s an even greater element of community outreach here, and the community embraces it. Portland has such a different vibe from Baltimore, and she’s making weekday trips down to San Francisco and LA and San Diego for meetings and setting up smaller groups that she can manage from up in Portland. 

It makes for an insane schedule, and next to no down time, so despite her initial plans to make contact as soon as she’d found a place, she ends up putting it off.

She still texts regularly and she still takes calls from Kelley, but she’s purposefully vague about work and quickly changes the subject when either of them asks about the community center. 

Before she knows it, her first month in Portland has passed and Kelley and Tobin are playing in the CONCACAF tournament for Olympic Qualifying off in Texas. Christen catches the games she can, and checks the scores religiously for those she can’t. She grins when she sees Tobin’s name on her screen as having scored and makes a mental promise with herself to make contact as soon as they’re back. 

She does a group text of congratulations when they qualify for the Olympics and wonders if maybe things will be settled enough by summer that she could go to Japan for a game. 

  
  


Kelley somehow finds out without her telling her. 

She’s not sure how, exactly, but Kelley mumbles something about trying to set up a surprise and contacting the head office in Baltimore. 

It’s early March and work is finally starting to slow down for Christen, just a tiny bit. She’s got a good team established and she’s starting to feel like maybe she can actually delegate effectively some of the tasks that she was putting on herself before. 

(She tells herself that work is the only reason that she hasn’t told Tobin yet. They’re there, in the same city, and Christen wants nothing more than to tell her, but there’s so little time and then there’s something else, too. There’s a nagging fear in the back of her mind, a recurrent anxiety. There’s a small voice that can’t help but ask, “What if Tobin’s not happy I’m here?”

It’s a hell of a surprise to spring on someone, and the longer she waits, the less certain she is about it.)

Christen isn’t remotely prepared for Kelley O’Hara showing up at her office looking more smug than she’s ever seen her. 

“Well,” Kelley says by way of a greeting, “nothing says ‘I love you’ like moving your company to the city she lives in.” 

Christen rolls her eyes and pulls Kelley into a hug and mutters, “Shut up!” into her shoulder. 

“And you haven’t told her yet because…?” Kelley demands when they break apart. 

Christen puts her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow at Kelley. “Who says I haven’t?” 

Kelley gives her a withering look and Christen sighs. 

“I’ve been very, very busy.” 

Kelley nods, but the expression on her face says that she doesn’t believe her for a second. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh, sure.”

“I have!” Christen insists. That much is not a lie. “I only just had my first full week where I didn’t have to fly to California for something!”

“Okay, and?”

Christen rolls her eyes and sits back behind her desk. She KNOWS Kelley is going to tell her she’s being stupid if she admits it, but Kelley’s the only one who really knows everything, so she tells her anyway. 

“What if she’s not happy I’m here?” 

Kelley sighs dramatically and rolls her eyes as she plops down in the seat across the desk from Christen. “She’ll be ecstatic,” she counters. 

“But what if she’s not?” Christen pushes, the anxiety at the back of her mind wrapping icy fingers around her chest as well now that she’s voiced the fear aloud. “We live in different worlds even if we’re in the same city.” 

“Christen,” Kelley says, sitting up straight and looking right at her. 

“Mm?”

“You DO know that we pro soccer players have been known to date outside our profession, right?” Kelley gestures at herself and raises her eyebrows, and Christen takes the point. 

“I know, but-”

“So, first game,” Kelley cuts her off. “That gives you a month to mentally prepare or whatever. Mark your calendar. First Portland home game we’re going and you’re telling her,” Kelley declares. 

“Don’t you have a club several states away or something?” Christen attempts to argue. 

“Our first game is midweek after the Thorns. It will be a quick trip,” Kelley replies, clearly already having foreseen this complaint. 

“Kelley…” Christen doesn’t really have a follow up, but the idea of having a set date looming over her fills her with a rising panic. 

“Christen,” Kelley replies firmly and matter-of-factly. 

Christen looks at Kelley, sees the determined set of her jaw, the pointed look in her eyes, and knows that she’s already lost this argument. 

“Fine.”

  
  
  


Christen is nervous as she takes her seat in the stands. They’re running a little late, which doesn’t really help matters. 

Actually, nervous is a bit of an understatement. 

And Kelley keeps getting asked for autographs, so she’s not actually that much help as Christen braces to see Tobin again. 

Somehow this time is almost more nerve-wracking than the last time. Maybe it’s because it’s been less time in between so her emotions are fresher. Maybe it’s because there’s more to potentially lose. 

Either way, there’s an uneasy tightness in her chest and she can’t stop bouncing her knee, and when Tobin marches out of the tunnel and takes the field, Christen feels like she can barely breathe. 

They’re finishing the anthem and pulling off their warm ups, and then Sonny is leaning over to Tobin and saying something and Lindsey points in her direction, and Christen actually does forget to breathe until Kelley nudges her in the side with a smug grin. 

She told them they were coming, Christen realizes as Tobin’s eyes go wide and she freezes in place and searches the stands. Of course Kelley did. 

But when Tobin smiles and raises her hand in a small wave, Christen can’t find it in herself to be mad at her. 

  
  
  


The game is high energy and the score is tight. Portland pulls out a win thanks to a late header from Sinclair and a rather spectacular save in the 89th minute from AD, but Christen is feeling a little too lightheaded to cheer the way she really wants to for the victory. The clock counting up the whole game has felt like a different clock running down, and as Tobin smiles and waves at her fans as she jogs in Christen’s direction, it feels as if time has finally just run out. 

“What are you doing here?” Tobin calls up. “How long are you in town? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” She pulls herself up at the railing and Christen leans over to give her a half hug, her heart practically pounding out of her chest as she does so. 

She’s convinced that Tobin must be able to feel it through their touch, but if she does, she doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead she looks up at Christen with a bright smile and expectant eyes and Christen freezes in place. 

She knows the words she wants to say. She’d planned them and rehearsed them just so she wouldn’t freeze in the moment, but here she is and she can barely remember how to say her own name. 

Kelley elbows her in the side a little too hard, and she hears herself stutter out, “I-I live here now.”

Tobin’s brows crease in confusion and Kelley is leaning down and saying, “She does! She’s head honcho in Portland for her company! Very important. They just expanded here in January. Isn’t that nice? What an amazing coincidence, don’t you think, Tobs? Here you are playing and living in Portland and here Christen is now ALSO living in Portland? It’s almost like-”

Christen cuts her off with a sharp kick to the shin and a “Shut up, Kel!”

Tobin’s eyes are flicking between Kelley and Christen, and emotions are flipping across her face far too quickly for Christen to read any of them, but there are so many cries of “Tobin! Tobin! Over here, Tobin!” and “Tobin can I have your autograph!” and “Oh my God, Tobin I love you!” that it’s almost deafening. 

“I’ve gotta-” Tobin gestures at the waiting fans, and Christen nods her understanding, trying not to let her disappointment show. Tobin moves over to sign an autograph, but looks back with a soft smile and shouts, “Wait for me outside the locker room? Kel, get her in!”

Christen feels her heart soar and she nods emphatically, already feeling Kelley tugging at her arm. 

She’s waited for eight years. What’s a few minutes more?

  
  


“I swear to God, if you pace one more time, I’m going to push you over,” Kelley threatens, and Christen leans hard back against the wall with a thud. 

Whatever momentary relief she’d felt at Tobin’s smile has vanished and been replaced by a ball of gnawing anxiety. 

“What if she just wanted me to wait so that she could let me down easy without all the fans around?” 

Kelley groans as she rolls her eyes. “Oh my God, were you always this ridiculous, or is it a new thing?”

Christen gives her a little shove and feels minutely better for it. 

The door to the locker room opens and Christen jumps, but it’s Midge Purce. As great as she played tonight, she is distinctly not the person that Christen is waiting for. 

Midge gives them a wave and a nod and heads on her way. 

Other players filter out slowly at first, until Christen stops jumping every time the door opens, but she doesn’t stop the anxious way she’s turning the ring on her middle finger or the way her eyes fly to the door at any hint of a noise. 

Tobin walks out after most of the team has already departed, Sonny and Lindsey hot on her heels. 

Christen pushes off the wall, her mouth already opening with an explanation of why she didn’t tell her sooner and how busy she’s been, but Tobin doesn’t give her the chance to say any of it. 

Tobin marches straight up to her, looks her straight in the eyes, cups her face, and then kisses her. 

She kisses her right there in the hallway, backing her into the wall. She kisses her with an audience of friends and a member of the coaching staff who stops to stare. 

She kisses her like she never ever wants to stop kissing her and Christen melts into the kiss because that is 100% just fine with her. 

Lindsey lets out a whoop and Sonny catcalls and Kelley wolf-whistles loud and shrill, and Tobin breaks the kiss, but doesn’t look at any of them. She only has eyes for Christen as she raises her hand to flip them off. 

Christen smiles at her so wide that her cheeks ache, and Tobin grins right back just as wide. 

“Go out with me?” Tobin breathes against her lips. 

Christen feels tears of joy pricking at her eyes and her chest feels like it might explode from everything that she’s feeling. She throws her arms around Tobin’s neck, ignoring Sonny’s whistle and Kelley’s comment of, “Get it, Pressy.” 

She kisses her softly and slowly, like she has all the time in the world because for once it feels like she does, and then she breathes out her answer. 

“Yes. Please, yes.”

  
  


Christen makes the decision a month before she tells them. In the end, though, she needs their help, so she has to sit them down and explain what, exactly, she has planned. 

It hasn’t really been that long, and maybe she’s rushing things, but it feels like it’s been ages and in some way it has. 

Kelley’s eyes go wide when she sees the ring and she tackles Christen with a hug so strong that Christen almost drops it. 

“When?” Sonny asks, almost reverently, for once the picture of seriousness. 

“I was thinking Japan? Hoping you guys can make it to the final so this could be kind of icing on the cake?” 

Lindsey just grins, and then Kelley grins too, and Sonny just keeps saying, “Wow.”

  
  


When Tobin says yes, it’s with a second Olympic Gold Medal around her neck and tears in her eyes, and Christen knows that things worked out just how they were supposed to, no regrets, no looking back. 

  
  
  



End file.
